


it's the illusion of separation

by argentoswan



Series: the greatest illusion [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist!Sokka, Baker!Zuko, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Healthy Relationships, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Tea Shop, feat. toph and zuko as bffs, idiots to lovers, it's zukka rights baby, the gaang struggles in their early 20s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 110,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentoswan/pseuds/argentoswan
Summary: Sokka takes a job washing dishes at the new tea shop in town. It's a great gig, until he finds out his only coworker is his old high school bully. Sokka really should quit, but he also really needs to afford rent.Also, Zuko is kind of hot now.
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko
Series: the greatest illusion [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849075
Comments: 1315
Kudos: 3096





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tags/ratings may change, and individual content warnings for chapters will be at the beginning of the end notes for each one. Rated mostly for swearing and past/implied child abuse (thanks a lot Ozai).

Sokka was willing to bet every dollar in his checking account that the universe had some kind of personal vendetta out against him. Of course, considering the cosmic hitman that seemed to be out for his blood, there wasn’t very much money to bet in the first place. And now-

“Fired?” Sokka knew that his voice had gone shrill, but as time went on he was finding that his dignity meant less and less to him each day. He had left his dignity by the front door when he had come in and put on his stupid stained apron and his stupid stained white hat only to be slapped in the face- metaphorically, sure, but with the way Mongke was leering at him Sokka wondered if this was the day he would finally snap. 

“Fired,” Mongke said. He pursed his lips in a smug kind of way and then jerked his head towards his office door, gold hoop earrings swinging. “Your last paycheck is in your locker. Stick your apron in with the rest of the laundry when you leave.”

“But- why?” 

“I thought I made my opinion on you clear.” Mongke leaned back in his chair and stared at Sokka, dark eyes beady.

Sokka knew it was useless to get upset, but he still felt self-righteous anger swirling in him. He lifted his chin and glared back at his former boss. “I can sue for this!”

Mongke barked out a laugh. “With what money?” 

Alright. That one stung. 

“Aw, cheer up, Sokka,” Aang said hours later. He patted Sokka’s shoulder and beamed at him. His smile was toothy and so genuine Sokka was surprised he didn’t have a mouth full of cavities from all the sweetness. “You hated the Rough Rhino. This gives you a chance to find another job you actually like!”

“I got fired from washing dishes,” Sokka said. He leaned back against the couch cushions and stared up at his ceiling. “That’s like, the most minimum wage job a person can have .” 

“Aang’s right,” Katara’s voice called from the kitchen. Sokka glanced over at Aang just so he could grin at the red flush in his cheeks as Katara rounded the corner with two bowls. “Everyone at that place was a jerk. I think they did you a favor.”

“Gee, Katara,” Sokka said. “You’re right. I think I’m going to try and bring unemployment back into fashion, thank you so much!” 

Katara rolled her eyes and sat down next to Aang. “Mango and sticky rice,” she told him with a smile, handing over a bowl.

“Where’s mine?” Sokka asked over the sound of Aang’s grateful sputtering.

“There are leftovers in the kitchen.”

Sokka groaned and threw an arm up to cover his eyes. “Can this day get any worse?”

There was a single, far too aggressive knock on the front door before it slammed open, making everyone jump. “Hey losers,” Toph said, walking in and swinging the door closed with her foot.

“Oh, good,” Sokka said as he let his head drop back down. “Toph is here.”

“I’m going to let that one slide.” Toph kicked off her shoes, flinging them in the general direction of the television. “What’s this I heard about Sokka getting laid off? Budge up.”

“I was not laid off,” Sokka said, scowling when Toph shoved her way onto the couch beside him, twisting to kick her feet up and across their collective laps. 

“He was fired!” Aang said through a mouthful of rice. He swallowed loudly and then grinned at Katara. “This is really good, Katara.” 

“Hey, I want food,” said Toph, head tilted expectantly at Katara. 

“And I want you to wash your feet,” Katara said, eyeing Toph’s toes and grimacing when Toph wiggled them at her. 

“Save the lecture, princess.” Toph’s grey eyes drifted vaguely in Sokka’s direction. “What’s the game plan?”

“There is no game plan,” said Sokka. “After I pay rent in a few days I will have exactly zero dollars in my bank account. First I won’t be able to afford food, and then I’ll lose this apartment, and then I will be sleeping at the bus station across the street.” 

“Or you could start job hunting,” Aang offered. 

Sokka moaned again. 

“Ugh,” Toph said, slapping a hand to her stomach. “I sure am _hungry_.”

Katara, who had been sitting on the edge of the couch and frowning sharply at Toph’s feet in Aang’s lap, looked up. “There’s more in the kitchen,” she said. “Help yourself, but I’m taking a plate to Gran Gran later, so make sure to leave some.”

Toph moved so quickly she smacked her elbow into Sokka’s jaw. “Ow!” he said, reaching up to grab at his chin.

“Toph, leave some for Gran Gran,” Katara said as Toph rolled to her feet and made for the kitchen. Katara half-rose from her seat, wavered for a moment, and then gave an exasperated sigh and hurried after Toph.

Sokka scowled in their direction and rubbed his jaw, which was still smarting. He glanced over at Aang, who was happily using his chopsticks to scrape together the last few bits of rice in his bowl.

“You know,” Sokka said conversationally. “I’m okay with you asking my sister out as long as you don’t do it in my apartment. Boundaries, you know.”

Aang fumbled with his chopsticks and dropped them. “I,” he said, leaning over to snatch them up from the floor. There were already bright pink spots on his cheeks. “I, I wasn’t- I don’t-”

“Oh, you weren’t?” 

“Sokka,” Aang said, eyes flicking in the direction of the kitchen.

“Listen little man, the only person who doesn’t know about your epic crush on Katara is Katara. And maybe you didn’t have a shot when you were a scrawny little freshman in high school, but now?” Sokka punched him lightly in the arm. “You’re a scrawny little college freshman! Huge difference.”

“Do you… do you think she would say yes?” Aang said it with such fragile hope that it made Sokka’s sorely disused heart twist. Sure, Katara was his baby sister and he didn’t much care for the idea of her dating _anyone_ , but Aang was harmless, and most of the time Sokka forgot that he wasn’t technically part of the family. If anyone was going to be putting the moves on Katara, Sokka was glad it was Aang.

Besides, Aang had been nursing a tragic crush on her since high school. And sure, Katara had never shown much interest in dating anyone, but she was far nicer to Aang than she was to anyone else, which had to say something, right?

“I think you’ve got a better shot than you think,” Sokka said, and smiled back when Aang beamed at him.

“You didn’t tell me it had mango in it!” Toph’s grumpy voice heralded her return. She marched back over to her spot on the couch and collapsed onto it, twisting so she was sprawled out across Sokka’s lap.

“It’s sticky rice and _mango_ , Toph, don’t be stupid.” Katara rejoined them on the other side, sitting down next to Aang. Aang sat up a bit straighter on the couch, reaching up to run his fingers through his short black hair and mussing it up awfully.

“I’m still hungry,” Toph said. 

“Order food,” said Sokka. “And get off of me before I push you.”

“You can’t push me, I’m blind!” 

“And I have ADHD, you’re not special. Ow! Katara, Toph hit me!”

“I’ll go order a pizza,” Katara said in a tired voice.

X X X X X 

Job hunting was a lot harder than Sokka remembered. 

“I’m doomed,” he announced over his milkshake. “I’ll have to move back in with Gran Gran.”

“Gran Gran is dope,” Toph said. She was layering french fries and ketchup together in a tall stack with a scary kind of precision. 

“Yeah, okay, but I happen to like my apartment.”

The ketchup bottle wheezed as Toph squirted out more. “I also like your apartment,” she said. “You raise a fair point.”

Toph had joined him at the small diner near his apartment during his brief break from looking for employment. He had wandered all around the city that morning, keeping an eye out for help wanted signs and whipping his resume out every chance he got, only to be turned away again and again. Sokka’s pride stung just a little bit. 

“This is hopeless,” Sokka said, running a finger through the condensation gathered on his glass milkshake cup. 

“Probably,” Toph said. She laid a final fry on top of her monstrosity and then said, “Listen. I’m a nice person.”

“Since when?”

“So I’m going to tell you something. Because I’m _nice_ and I like hanging out in your apartment, so I don’t want you to lose it.” Toph raised a finger to point at him. “There’s this new tea shop. It’s called the Jasmine Dragon, it’s on First Street. It’s run by this really chill old guy and he told me he was thinking about hiring someone to wash the dishes.”

“Toph! Why didn’t you tell me!” 

“Because I just found that place and I like it,” Toph said, crossing her arms and glaring in Sokka’s direction. “I don’t want you to fuck it up for me!”

“This is perfect,” Sokka said, trying to calculate how long it would take him to get there. What were the shop’s hours? “All I have to do is wash tea cups? That’s like, the easiest kind of dish to wash.”

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Toph said. Then, in a feat that shouldn’t have been possible, she opened her mouth wide and managed to cram the entire french fry tower in. 

Sokka didn’t make it down to the Jasmine Dragon until the following afternoon. He followed the directions that Toph had given him until he was standing in front of a small building shoved in between a cafe and a smoke shop. It was painted in tones of cool green and tan, with what looked like a handwritten sign above the door reading the shop’s name.

Sokka tightened his fingers around his resume. He had smoothed his hair back into a low ponytail- one of his more professional looks- and had let Katara dress him up in his nicest button-down shirt and clean trousers. Sokka felt weird, which probably was a good thing.

“Alright, Sokka,” he said to himself. “You’ve got this.”

A bell chimed pleasantly when Sokka pushed the door open. Immediately he was hit by the thick, calming scent of dozens of different kinds of teas swirling together in the air. The space was larger than he had anticipated, with honest-to-god sconces on the wall casting warm golden light on everything. There was a huge green rug in the center of the room, beautifully stitched with a coiled, golden dragon. Wooden chairs and tables were spread out across the room, a handful of them occupied with customers sipping from white cups. Two old men were playing some kind of game with tiles in the corner. They looked very focused.

Uncertain of what to do, Sokka stayed where he was, shifting his weight from foot to foot awkwardly, until a curtain set into the far wall lifted and an old man emerged.

He was carrying a pot of tea, and when he caught sight of Sokka standing there his face split into a broad smile. He waved a hand towards an empty table by Sokka, raised the pot with a conspiratorial wink, and turned to tend to his customers.

Sokka sat. He laid his wrinkled resume on the wooden table, trying to surreptitiously smooth it out. Slow, instrumental folk music was being piped into the space, low enough to fade into pleasant background noise.

“My apologies,” said a voice after a few minutes. Sokka looked up to find the old man there, and assumed it was who Toph had told him about. He had a wide, pleasant face, a grey beard and sideburns, and bright eyes. “I didn’t want to make you wait, but I had to top off a few cups of chamomile.”

“It’s fine,” Sokka said, feeling awkward as he watched the man set down two empty cups in front of Sokka.

“Do you like oolong?” the man asked, raising a tea pot and looking at Sokka expectantly.

“Uh,” said Sokka. A long what now? “Yeah?”

The man poured two cups of tea, then sat down across from Sokka. He took one of the cups and then gestured to the other. “Please. Let me know what you think.”

Sokka picked up the warm cup. He raised it to his lips and took a small sip. It was hot, and threatened to burn his tongue, but sweet in a way he hadn’t expected.

“It’s good,” he said, surprised despite himself. 

The man nodded. “It is my own blend,” he said. “Although I also sense that you would be partial to a nice cup of darjeeling.”

“I don’t know much about tea,” Sokka said. The Katara in his head kicked him, hard. 

The man chuckled. “I envy you,” he said. “You have so much to learn! The world of tea is a wide and fascinating one. But you did not come here to discuss that. You came here to inquire about a job!”

“Yes,” Sokka said, straightening in his seat. “Um, Toph said she knows you?”

“Toph Beifong! What a fascinating young lady,” the man said. “Yes, I have quite enjoyed her company since she stumbled upon our little shop. I informed her of my recent troubles with the dishes, and like a helpful spirit she guided me to someone who might help.”

Okay, so maybe the old man wasn’t all the way there, but he seemed nice enough. Remembering the manners Gran Gran had drilled into him, Sokka offered his hand across the table.

“My name is Sokka,” he said.

The man smiled and took his hand. “You can call me Iroh,” he said. He leaned back in his seat and picked up his cup. “Now, Sokka. Tell me all about yourself.”

“Well,” Sokka said, glancing down at his resume. “I’ve worked several jobs in the food industry. I was a server at Applebee’s for three years, and I washed dishes at this Korean barbeque place called the Rough Rhino for a few months, before I… left.”

“Experience in customer service is vital for a well-rounded worldview,” Iroh said. He tilted his head to the side. “What do you do for fun, Sokka?” 

“For fun?” Sokka looked at his resume again, as though that might help him. “Um, I- I like to hang out with my friends, I guess. Toph, you know her, and my sister, and my friend Aang. I go to the gym, sometimes. I play video games. I like to draw,” he offered, because Iroh was still _looking_ at him and Sokka was feeling more than a little bit exposed.

Iroh brightened. “What do you draw?”

“Nothing special,” Sokka said, his cheeks heating up. “Whatever I feel like, mostly. I’ve done a few online commissions for people.”

“An artist’s mind is a beautiful one.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far, sir.”

“Just Iroh is fine, my friend. Do you wish to pursue your art in the future?”

Sokka blinked. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’m kind of just trying to afford rent right now.”

He immediately bit his tongue, but Iroh just laughed. “Aren’t we all?” he said. He smiled warmly at Sokka. “Owning a tea shop has been my dream for many years. Now that I am lucky enough to have the Jasmine Dragon, I like to make sure that everyone who represents it is a good, kind soul. Right now it is just me, and my young nephew.”

“Right,” Sokka said, his heart sinking. “I know that Toph put in a good word for me- well, she said she did, so actually she probably just insulted me- but it’s really okay if you feel I’m not a good fit for the position.”

Iroh looked a little startled. “You misunderstand me, Sokka,” he said. “I would very much like to hire you, if you think this is an environment you would enjoy.”

Sokka felt like he was getting emotional whiplash. “Really?” 

Iroh chuckled. “Really. And I feel that you will get along with my nephew quite well.”

Sokka nodded enthusiastically. “I absolutely will,” he said. “Thank you so much, Iroh.”

“No, thank _you_ , my young friend.” Iroh inclined his head towards Sokka in a nod and picked up his tea. “Now, will you join me for another cup?”

X X X X X

Iroh asked Sokka to return at noon the next day, so Sokka arrived fifteen minutes early and waited in the Starbucks across the street until it was the appropriate time to go in.

“Ah, Sokka,” Iroh greeted him when he walked in. He was standing beside the same two men who had been playing that tile game yesterday, pouring a generous serving of fresh tea into their cups. “Have you ever seen a game of Pai Sho?”

“No,” Sokka said, glancing curiously at the tiles as he approached. 

“Oh, it’s a wonderful game,” said Iroh, “beautifully complex. You must sit and watch Jinpa and Fung play some time. But for now, you must be eager to learn the ropes of your new job! Come with me.” Iroh set the tea pot down on the table and bowed to the two men, who returned the courtesy with head nods, and then turned to lead Sokka towards the back of the shop. 

“This is the kitchen,” Iroh said, stepping through gauzy green curtain and pulling it aside for Sokka. The room was much smaller than the front of the shop, but standard enough from what Sokka had experience with. “That door there leads into an office space, but I don’t use it much. Feel free to use it for breaks or if you just need to sit down for a few moments!”

Iroh walked over to a shelf set into the wall and pulled down a white apron. “I don’t mind what you wear so long as you’re comfortable and wear the apron over it,” Iroh said, passing it over to Sokka with a smile. “I don’t want to be responsible for getting tea stains on your clothes. It quite annoys my nephew.”

Sokka unfolded the apron, which had a golden dragon stitched on the front. He slipped it over his head and knotted it around his waist. “Kitchen here, office there, wear an apron,” he said. “Seems easy enough so far.”

Iroh chuckled. “Let’s hope it stays that way,” he said. “I know I hired you to wash dishes, but I hope you don’t mind that we all work together here. If you ever struggle with anything, please let me or my nephew know and we will do our very best to help you.”

“Thanks,” Sokka said. It sort of felt like he had hit the lottery of jobs. He had yet to meet this nephew kid, but Iroh was basically the nicest old man Sokka had ever met, so he wasn’t too concerned about it. 

From the other side of the curtain, the bell over the front door rang. Iroh clapped his hands together. “I must go tend to the customers,” he said. “My nephew will be here in an hour or so- he will show you everything else you need to know. Until then, I left this morning’s dishes in the sink- would you mind washing those up?”

“Absolutely,” Sokka said, eager to prove himself. He got the absurd urge to bow to Iroh as the man turned away, but he held himself back and instead went to go throw himself at the dishes.

It wasn’t fun work, necessarily, but it was repetitive and lulling in a way that was familiar to Sokka. Iroh came back intermittently with new dishes, and always lingered to have a quick chat- sometimes about the locations of various supplies he thought Sokka might need, but mostly about Pai Sho, which Sokka was coming to know a lot about in a very short amount of time. He got the impression that Iroh’s nephew wasn’t too keen on learning, which was going to have to change because Sokka was not about to become this guy’s chess partner.

“Sokka,” Iroh called when an hour had passed, breaking Sokka’s concentration. “Would you please bring a new tea set up front?”

“Sure,” Sokka said, drying his hands off on his apron and going to grab a freshly cleaned set. 

He slid through the curtain, tray in hand, and went to set it down on the front counter. He turned to Iroh, who was talking to a tall man who had his back turned, and said, “Do you want me to-?”

Then he stopped, because the man turned around and Sokka was so startled his fingers fumbled on the tray. His jaw dropped in mortified horror when two tea cups and a saucer slid off the side and cracked loudly against the wood floor.

“Oh my god.” He crouched down swiftly, reaching out to start grabbing at the broken pieces of pottery.

He blinked when a towel was thrust into his line of sight, and looked up to see a face and a scar he had hardly even thought about in years. 

“Please don’t hurt yourself,” said Iroh, worried face popping up over Zuko’s shoulder. “Are you alright, Sokka?”

“I’m fine.” Sokka snatched the towel from Zuko and used it to pick up the broken shards. He tossed them back on the tray with a clatter. 

“Are you sure?” Iroh asked as Sokka rose and deposited the tray safely on the counter. The customers in the shop, who had been startled out of their conversations and games by the noise, seemed to have returned to their tea. 

Sokka crossed his arms, trying to temper his embarrassment. His heart was beating a tattoo against his ribcage as he turned narrow eyes on Zuko, who was standing behind Iroh with a startled expression.

“What are you doing here?” Sokka demanded.

Before Zuko could respond, Iroh laid a hand on his shoulder. “This is my nephew, Zuko,” he said. The old man’s face was confused. “Do you two know each other?”

Sokka bit his tongue, because even though Zuko was a jerk, Iroh probably didn’t know about it. “We went to high school together,” he said. _And your precious nephew was one of the biggest bullies this side of the equator._

Iroh raised his eyebrows. “I see,” he said. “Well, unfortunately I must take a fresh pot of jasmine out to the nice couple that just joined us. Why don’t you two go into the kitchen to get reacquainted, and I will join you in a few minutes?”

Sokka opened his mouth to snap _like hell I’ll go anywhere alone with that guy_ , but Zuko had already nodded shortly and turned to disappear through the curtains, and Sokka was not about to be shown up by an asshole, so he spun on his heel and marched through after him.

“What the fuck?” he said as he burst into the kitchen.

Zuko was pulling down an apron. He had his back turned to Sokka, but his shoulders looked tense. 

“Sokka, right?” Zuko’s voice was quieter than Sokka remembered.

“Like you don’t fucking remember,” Sokka said, glaring as Zuko pulled his apron on and turned to face him again.

Through his haze of anger, Sokka noted that Zuko looked _really_ different. If it hadn’t been for the scar, actually, he might not have recognized him at all. The Zuko in Sokka’s mind- the one he had gone through four years of school with, the one who had tormented him and his friends on the daily- was scrawny and sharp, hair pulled back into an ugly, harsh ponytail. 

This Zuko had long, loose hair that mostly hid his eyes and the puckered red skin painted across the left one. He was still taller than Sokka- annoying- but he looked as though he had filled out a little under the plain green shirt he was wearing. 

“I didn’t know you were who my uncle hired,” he said.

“Are you going to get me fired now?” Damn it. Sokka had actually been excited about this job, too.

Sokka couldn’t read Zuko’s expression. In the three years since graduation, the guy’s face had become foreign to him. Still, he was looking at Sokka, gaze steady.

“No,” Zuko said. “But I don’t think you’ll want to stay and work with me.”

“Hey,” Sokka said. He marched over to Zuko, finger coming up to point at his chest. “You don’t know anything about me. Your uncle hired me fair and square, and I’m not going to leave just because you’re trying to chase me out.”

Zuko’s brow furrowed. There it was. “I’m not trying to chase you out.” 

“You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” Sokka snapped.

“This is my _uncle’s tea shop_.”

“I don’t care! Listen here, jerk- just because you got away with all that shit in high school, doesn’t mean you’ll get away with any of it _now_ , especially without your sister and her little posse here to back you up.” 

Zuko’s mouth thinned. Sokka braced himself, ready for the customary explosion of anger.

After a moment, however, Zuko’s head dropped again.

“I know I was awful in high school,” he said. “And I know it doesn’t mean anything now. But I shouldn’t have treated you or your friends like that. I’m sorry.”

Sokka just stared at him. 

“I’m sorry to keep you two waiting.” Iroh slipped back through the curtain and stopped to face the two of them, brow wrinkled with concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Uncle,” Zuko said before Sokka could say anything. _Annoying._ “Sokka and I went to high school together. I was unkind to him and his friends, and I doubt he will want to work with me.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Sokka snapped at him. He turned to Iroh. “Zuko was a bully in high school, but he can’t just make me leave!”

“I’m not making you leave,” Zuko said with the tone of someone who was trying very hard to stay patient. 

“Really? Because this is the second time you’ve said I should just quit!” 

“No one is asking you to quit, Sokka,” Iroh said, “and no one is firing you. However, I don’t think it’s fair to either of you to work in an environment filled with so much tension.”

Sokka flung his hands out. “There’s no tension here!”

“I’ll go home,” Zuko said. 

“The afternoon tea rush is coming soon and I need your help, nephew.”

“I don’t think Sokka-”

“I’m fine,” Sokka said, because he was getting really tired of Zuko trying to make decisions for him. Fuck this guy. Sokka wasn’t going to leave just to make him more comfortable. What, he didn’t want to be reminded of how awful he is? Too bad. “I’ll stay in the back and do dishes and you can go bring tea to people and you won’t even have to look at me. Boom, problem solved.”

Zuko still looked unhappy with the arrangement, but Iroh just nodded. “We will discuss this more later,” he said, and reached out to take Zuko’s elbow. “Zuko, would you please go get Ms. Lee a slice of our cinnamon coffee cake?”

Zuko didn’t so much as glance over at Sokka, who was glaring at him. “Yes, Uncle,” he said, and turned to disappear through the curtain.

Sokka expected Iroh to follow after him, but the old man didn’t make a move to go. “Are you alright, Sokka?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Sokka said. He was feeling a lot calmer now that Zuko and his stupid face were gone, and was starting to feel just a little embarrassed about how he had acted in front of Iroh. The old man had been nothing but kind to him, and Sokka had probably blown any chance he had of keeping this job by insulting his nephew. “I’m, uh, really sorry about all that.” 

Iroh shook his head. “It’s alright,” he said. “I understand how startling it can be when someone from our past reappears. And I know my nephew has not always been the kindest person.” He glanced back at the curtain as though to check that they were still alone. “Zuko has had a very hard few years. I know that does not negate the hurt he has caused you, but you must believe that he is a good young man, and he has changed a lot since he was in high school. I think if you gave him a chance you would find he regrets how he has behaved.”

Yeah. Sokka doubted it. But that wasn’t Iroh’s problem. “Sure,” he said, because Iroh looked like he was waiting for an answer.

Iroh sighed. “I think you would work very well in the shop,” he said, “and I do not want you to leave because of this. But if you feel uncomfortable working with Zuko, I will not fault you for looking for employment elsewhere. You are welcome to keep this job while you look.”

Sokka blinked, surprised. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m- I’m not sure, yet. I’ll let you know, though?”

Iroh nodded. “Take your time,” he said, and then bowed his head. “I must go help Zuko out front. It does not befit a shop owner to leave his employees to handle all of his work.” He was smiling when he straightened back up again. “Let me know if you need anything.”

When Iroh had gone, Sokka returned to the sink. He picked up a stained tea pot and turned on the water, shoving it under the stream and scowling at nothing.

This was just great. This was _just_ Sokka’s luck. Toph was going to lose it when Sokka told her what had happened. Actually, this was all Toph’s fault, so maybe Sokka could just blame her for everything.

Or he could blame Zuko. He could still remember him skulking around with his sister and the rest of those nasty rich kids who thought they could get away with anything just because they came from wealthy families. Sokka might have been less upset if they had just taken shots at him, but Aang and his sister had taken the brunt of the abuse, and they had been years younger than Zuko. Nobody changed that much.

Sokka had been angrily scrubbing the pot for a solid five minutes when a clatter of dishes made him jump. He looked up to see Zuko setting dirty dishes in the basin beside him, and Sokka felt himself bristle.

“Listen up, jerk,” he said before Zuko could leave or start speaking over him again. “I don’t care how much your uncle says you’ve changed, you’re an asshole and you will always be an asshole. But I’m not leaving until I have another job lined up, so you can just fuck right off until that happens. I don’t want to sing fucking kumbayah with a bully.”

Zuko looked at him. His eyes were such a pale brown they glowed almost gold, Sokka realized with a start.

Then, Zuko nodded, turned, and left.

Sokka stared after him. The sink was still running behind him, sending clouds of steam up.

“Jerk,” he said into the silence.

X X X X X

“Why didn’t you quit immediately?” Katara demanded, snatching up a shirt and angrily folding it. 

“Uh, because the hours are great and I’m being paid way over minimum wage?” Sokka said.

“So you’re just going to work with that creep, then? Ugh, I expected better from you.”

Sokka straightened up on the couch and glared at his sister. Aang, who was sitting next to him, shifted uncomfortably. On the other side of him, Toph was picking between her toes. 

“I’m sorry I can’t just quit my job, Katara,” he said. “Not all of us can get massive scholarships to pay their way through college, and some of us have to throw our lives away washing dishes _._ I’m sorry I’m such a huge disappointment.”

Katara jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t make this about me,” she said, eyes sparking dangerously. “This is about you continuing to work with someone who harassed all of us for years.”

“Sokka said that Iroh said he changed,” Aang said, and then shrank back when Katara turned her glare on him.

“I don’t know why I’m getting blamed for this,” Sokka said. “Toph told me to take the job!”

“I’ve never seen Jerkface there before,” Toph said without looking up from her feet. “I like Iroh and I like the tea, that’s all I knew.”

“You need to find a new job,” Katara said.

“You think I’m not looking? I’m not stupid, Katara!”

“Could have fooled me,” she muttered, and picked a pair of Sokka’s underwear out of the laundry basket she was sitting in front of. She pinched it between her fingers and scowled at it. “And why the hell am I doing your laundry? You’re a grown man!”

“I didn’t ask you to do my laundry,” Sokka said. “You grabbed it because you needed something to do while you were yelling at me!”

“I’m not yelling!” Katara yelled.

“I kind of want to go somewhere for dinner tonight,” Aang said. His cheeks were red again. “Katara, do you want to come with me?”

Katara threw Sokka’s underwear back in the pile. “When that guy does something awful to you, don’t come crying to me,” she said to Sokka. She stood up and snatched her keys off of the coffee table. Her hair had come loose from her braid, making her look a little wild as she glared at them all. “I’m going home.”

She slammed the front door behind her. Drama queen.

“Aang,” Sokka said into the silence. “That was not the moment to make your move on my sister.”

“That wasn’t what I was doing!”

“Sure it wasn’t, Twinkle-toes.”

“This isn’t fair.” Sokka kicked out at the laundry basket on the floor, tipping it over and sending all of his clean clothes to the ground. “Damn it!” 

“Cheer up, Sokka,” Aang said. He was smiling again. Relentlessly positive, this kid. “Maybe Zuko is nice now!”

“I’ll believe that when hell freezes over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! First of all, I have entirely sold my soul to Zukka, so this has been a long time coming. This is also my first Avatar fic, so please please leave a comment below letting me know what you thought! Have a nice day :)


	2. Chapter 2

Zuko was so used to the short stick he had apparently drawn at birth that he wasn’t really surprised when he walked into the Jasmine Dragon and saw Sokka there.

It was just his luck, really, one more thing that had gone wrong in the disaster that was his life. He had struck up a pleasant enough routine- working at the Jasmine Dragon during the day, taking his online classes at night- but it had all been ruined by yet another reminder that at the end of the day he was just a shitty human being. 

“Do you feel alright, Zuko?” Iroh asked over dinner that evening.

Zuko, who had been pushing his sesame broccoli around his plate without eating a bite, said, “I’m not really hungry.”

His uncle looked at him. Zuko always felt pinned by his gaze, like the old man could read each terrible emotion Zuko felt just by looking at him, and Zuko was helpless to do anything but sit and squirm under the feeling of being examined from the inside out. If it had been anyone else, it would have bothered Zuko, but Iroh wouldn’t use anything he learned against Zuko. 

“I apologize if my hiring decision has made you uncomfortable,” he said.

Zuko dropped his chopsticks with a clatter. “It’s fine. I deserve it.”

Iroh’s gaze was steady. “No, you don’t.” 

Zuko looked down, throat tight. He didn’t feel like doing this tonight.

“It might help me if you explained the situation a little more,” Iroh said. “Sokka was not eager to share with me.”

“You know I was a bully,” Zuko snapped. 

“You were, yes,” Iroh said, relentlessly calm. “And then you made a conscious effort to change. You should give yourself some credit, nephew.”

“Credit for learning what decent people already knew?” 

“Someone who takes the time to unlearn their damaging upbringing and do better deserves all the more credit, in my opinion.”

Zuko picked up a chopstick and started fiddling with it, turning it over in his fingers. “It was Azula, mostly,” he said. “I never really paid much attention to anyone in that group, but Azula hated them for some reason, so…” 

He felt ashamed just thinking about it. His sister had taken a hard dislike to Sokka and his little band of outcasts. Zuko wasn’t naive as to why- they had had a bald kid that looked eternally twelve, a blind chick, and Azula had especially hated the other girl, who Zuko remembered was Sokka’s younger sister. They had been easy targets, and Azula had lavished in their misery for four years.

She had lavished in everyone’s misery, but theirs especially. The degree to which she enjoyed their humiliation was rivaled only by her enjoyment of Zuko’s. 

“You made many mistakes,” Iroh said. “But you have since acknowledged them and worked to be better. I believe this could be a time for reconciliation.”

Zuko remembered the look on Sokka’s face, like Zuko was something he had found stuck to the bottom of his work shoes, and almost wanted to laugh.

“Sure,” he said. 

“Have faith, nephew.” Iroh picked up the bowl of rice from the center of the table and offered it to Zuko. “And eat something. You need to have energy if you are going to beat me at Pai Sho after dinner.”

Zuko couldn’t help but grin. “I’ve got homework,” he said, accepting the bowl and spooning more rice onto his plate.

“You don’t have time to keep an old man company? The evenings are so very cold.” 

“I’ll start a fire for you.”

Iroh tsked and shook his head. “No respect for the elderly.”

Zuko picked up his chopsticks again. “Explain to my statistics professor that you’re in desperate need of a Pai Sho companion,” he said, “and maybe we can figure something out.”

X X X X X

Zuko liked the Jasmine Dragon. He had never had a job before this, unless interning at his father’s company in high school counted, but although it had taken some time to adjust he found that he didn’t mind the work at all. His uncle had put great care into creating a cozy environment, and most of their customers were regulars, so Zuko enjoyed the chance to wander around and chat with them all while he topped off their tea.

He was especially enjoying it today. Sokka had been there for every one of Zuko’s shifts the past week, and although they hadn’t said more than a handful of words to each other, Sokka had made it clear that he detested Zuko. He glared at him every time Zuko went into the kitchen and muttered vague insults whenever Zuko’s back was turned. Between all the animosity and the schoolwork he had been steadily falling behind in, Zuko was exhausted.

Today, though, Sokka had the day off. That meant a little more work for Zuko in the back, but it also meant he could relax for the first time in a week.

Until he went to take his newest customer’s order, and her cloudy grey eyes fixed on a point somewhere above his head.

“Hey, Jerkface,” she said. 

“Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon,” Zuko said, feeling weary all over again. “What can I get you?”

The girl- Zuko was embarrassed to admit he didn’t remember her name- shrugged. “I dunno,” she said. “Iroh normally just gives me whatever.”

Great. Another person who hated him that his uncle had decided to act as counselor for. “We have a deal on pu’er today.”

“Sounds weird. I’m in.” The girl leaned back in her seat, bracing her hands behind her head. She looked just as tiny and cocky as she had in high school, with smug features and straight black hair tied out of her face with a headband. “I want a donut or something, too.” 

Zuko nodded, then realized she couldn’t see him. “Alright,” he said, turning to go back to the kitchen.

He prepared the pot of pu’er and plated a cake doughnut that he had made this morning. Arranging the tray with a fresh saucer and cup, he picked it up and took a moment to brace himself before slipping back through the curtain to deliver it. 

“Hold up, asshole,” said the girl when he dropped the tray swiftly on her table and tried to make a break for it. “Iroh always talks to me for a little bit. Where’s the customer service?”

“Sokka isn’t here today,” Zuko said awkwardly.

“I know,” the girl said. “That’s why I came. I’m not going to let that idiot ruin my zen. Hey, what gives? Pour my tea for me, I’m blind.”

Zuko picked up the teapot and carefully poured a cup, then waited while she sipped it.

“Ah,” she said, smacking her lips and setting it back down on the table with a thud. “Tastes like leaves.” 

Zuko felt his lips twitch despite himself. “Most tea does,” he said, “but don’t tell my uncle that.”

The girl snorted. “Iroh said you’re nice now,” she said, ripping a piece off her donut and shoving it into her mouth. 

“I’m, um, trying.”

“Good,” she said through a mouthful of pastry. Okay, ew. “You were an asshole.”

Zuko winced. “I know,” he said.

He knew that she couldn’t see him, but he still felt as though she was staring right at him. He watched as she reached out and tapped the rest of her donut.

“Who makes these?” she asked.

“Uh,” Zuko said, taken aback by the question. “I do.”

“They’re good,” she said, approvingly. “Give me two more and you’re forgiven.”

Zuko smiled, just a little bit.

She came back the next day, and the day after that, and Zuko learned that her name was Toph, and that she had been the one to suggest the job to Sokka.

“My bad,” she said, carelessly pouring herself another cup of jasmine tea. Zuko winced when some of the hot liquid splashed over the lip of her cup and spilled onto the table. “I’ll bet he’s annoying to work with.”

“He’s not,” Zuko said, even though he was pretty sure Sokka had purposefully left a box lying out yesterday so that Zuko would trip over it. 

“He thinks you’re plotting his murder.”

“He thinks a little too highly of how much I care,” Zuko said, making Toph snort. Zuko had been pleasantly surprised by her company, and when Iroh had made him take a break, he had hesitantly taken Toph up on her offer to pull up a chair. 

“Yeah, you don’t really strike me as the evil genius type,” Toph said. “That seems more like your sister’s vibe.”

“You have no idea.”

They were silent for a moment as they each sipped their tea. Uncle had chosen flute music today, and it piped peacefully through the shop, light and cheerful. 

“What happened to her, anyways?” Toph asked. “Always figured she’d go on to kill puppies for pay or something.”

“She works for my father’s company,” Zuko said, shoving down the bitterness rising in his throat. “I don’t speak to her much.”

“That’s fair. She always seemed a little crazy to me. No offense.”

“None taken.” 

“You’re much cooler than she is,” Toph said. “Mind you, you’re still a giant nerd, so that’s not saying much.”

“Thanks. I think,” Zuko said, unable to hold back his smile.

The bell over the front door chimed and he poised to get up on reflex. His heart sank when Sokka stepped in. He watched as the guy glanced around the room and caught sight of Toph. Then his eyes narrowed in on Zuko in a tight glare.

“Toph,” he said after stomping all the way across the room to their table.

Toph perked up. “Hey, socks-and-sandals, I didn’t know you were working today!”

“And I didn’t know you were having a tea party with the enemy.”

Zuko ducked his head, trying to hide his flush. Toph just laughed. 

“Get over yourself, dipstick,” she said. “If we’re still talking about high school, can we please discuss how much hair gel you used to use? I couldn’t even see it and I still thought you were a wanna-be Backstreet Boy.”

Sokka spluttered indignantly. Zuko kept his face carefully schooled.

“Yeah, well,” Sokka said. He crossed his arms and glared. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“No,” said Toph. 

“Really? Because I thought you promised Aang you would help him wash Appa.”

Toph checked her nails. “Maybe,” she said. She grabbed her tea and raised it to her mouth, tipping her head back to drain it in three big gulps.

“Fine,” she said, slamming it back down on the table. She jabbed a finger at Sokka. “Only because if I do it this time, you have to do it next time.” She turned to Zuko as she stood up and pointed at her empty cup. “I’m going to assume that was complimentary.”

“I’m sure Uncle would insist,” said Zuko.

Toph nodded. “You bet he would. See ya, nerd. Dipstick,” she said very pointedly to Sokka as she turned and left.

“How come I’m dipstick and he gets nerd?” Sokka called after her. Toph threw a middle finger up behind her as she strode out the front door.

Sokka waited a full five seconds before whipping back around to glare at Zuko. “Hey, scar-head,” he said, “stay the fuck away from my friends.”

Zuko had promised himself that he would never be anything but polite to Sokka. He had been rude enough for a lifetime in high school, and he could put up with whatever insults Sokka threw at him. 

Sometimes he forgot his own temper, though.

“She came here of her own free will,” Zuko snapped. “I don’t know what else you’re insinuating.”

Sokka was suddenly very close to Zuko’s face. His eyes were a sharp, intense blue, and for a moment Zuko was overwhelmed by them. 

“I’m insinuating,” Sokka said in a low voice, “that you need to stay away from my friends.”

Zuko curled his fist. 

“Nephew.” Uncle’s voice carried through the quiet chatter of the guests around them, of the flutes. “Will you join me in my office?”

Zuko remained where he was for a second more, staring down Sokka’s glare. Then he turned away from it to march across the room. 

He yanked back the curtain so hard he was half afraid he had ripped it. To his left, his uncle had left the door to his office open. Zuko strode through and slammed it shut behind him.

“Ugh!” he half-shouted. 

“What happened, Zuko?” Iroh had taken a seat. His office wasn’t much of an office at all; there was no desk or computer to work at, or rows of files. Instead, Iroh had filled it with a plush sofa and two armchairs, and a low coffee table with a stick of myrrh incense burning in the center of it. Several floorlamps cast warm golden light into the space, and the thick carpeting and the tapestries on the walls were shades of rich green.

Zuko huffed and fell back onto the sofa. “He’s…” He waved his hand vaguely in the air. “ _Vexing._ ”

“He’s a very opinionated young man,” Iroh said. He laced his hands together in his lap. “What did he say to you?”

Zuko grabbed one of the pillows off of the couch, tucking it under his chin. “Nothing I don’t deserve,” he said, anger fading quickly now that he had removed himself from the situation. Now he felt humiliation creeping up his neck. It had been a long time since he’d lost his temper like that. 

“Zuko.” His uncle’s voice was sharp, drawing Zuko’s attention back to him. “You do not have to pay penance for your mistakes for the rest of your life. You have learned and grown and apologized, and while Sokka is under no obligation to accept your apology, he doesn’t have the right to be unkind to you in return.” He leaned forward, his eyebrows drawn together in a furious expression. “You don’t deserve it, Zuko.” 

“I wasn’t upset because of what he said,” Zuko muttered. “He just-”

_He reminds me that I have done a million and one awful things, and it doesn’t matter how much I try to change, the universe will never forgive me for any of it. I’m drowning in it all and I can’t stop thinking about where I’ll be in a year and I’m scared I’m going to be right where I am now, and I can’t see any way out of it._

“He just what?” Iroh prodded.

Zuko curled his fingers into the pillow. “Nothing.”

If Iroh was disappointed by his answer, it didn’t show on his face. Instead he sat in the silence, gaze fixed on the tapestry hanging on the wall beside him, and waited for Zuko to grip the pillow tighter and compose himself once more.

“You seem to be getting along well with Toph Beifong,” Iroh said after several long moments had passed. 

Zuko shrugged. “She’s fine, I guess.”

“She is a very interesting young lady,” Iroh said. “I think she would be an excellent friend to have.” 

“She’s not my friend, Uncle.”

“Perhaps not yet.” His uncle’s eyes were bright, like he knew something Zuko didn’t, and suddenly Zuko was fed up with it all.

“She doesn’t want to be my friend, Uncle,” he said, tossing the pillow aside and standing up. “And Sokka was right about everything he said. I appreciate you saying all this, but-”

“Zuko,” Iroh said, and Zuko quieted immediately because it was very rare that his uncle interrupted someone. His uncle’s expression was hard, lips twisted down in a frown. “I don’t wish to let Sokka go, especially as he doesn’t have another job to go to. But I will not tolerate him being rude to you. He’s my employee, but you are my nephew, and you will always come first.”

Zuko felt his throat tighten. He stared down at his uncle, feeling a pressure building up behind his eyes, and bit down hard on his tongue to try and calm himself before it escalated.

Iroh’s expression softened. “You know,” he said, getting to his feet with a quiet groan. “Tea is wonderful, but I did not sleep well last night and I’m exhausted.” He reached into his pocket as he drew closer to Zuko. Iroh Gestured for Zuko to hold his hand out, then pushed a twenty dollar bill into his palm. “Would you mind running down to that coffee shop down the street and getting me something? Not the Starbucks, the smaller one.”

Zuko swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Uncle.”

“And get yourself something too,” Iroh said. He patted Zuko’s shoulder and then let his hand linger, meeting Zuko’s eyes for a moment. He was smiling gently. “Take your time.”

Zuko took a shaky breath and nodded, dipping his head low for a quick bow.

Sokka was at the sink when Zuko left the office. He felt eyes on him from across the room, but he ignored the other boy as he slipped out through the curtain and walked quickly towards the front door.

When he returned almost an hour later with clear eyes and a small latte, Iroh took it without a word. 

X X X X X

Zuko was taking inventory in the back of the shop when Sokka found him.

He heard the other boy approaching, but didn’t look up from the spreadsheet he was filling out. Zuko’s fingers tightened around his pen as he marked down three boxes of darjeeling, ignoring the other presence in the room.

“Uh,” Sokka said, just when Zuko had been contemplating losing his temper again. “Zuko?”

“Spare cups are on the shelf next to the utensils.”

“I wasn’t- really?” Sokka sounded momentarily puzzled. “I already checked there.”

Zuko circled white tea and wrote ‘out’ next to it. 

“Can we talk for a second?” Sokka asked. 

Setting his pen down on the clipboard, Zuko finally turned around to face Sokka, who was standing awkwardly in the doorway. His apron was stained and rumpled (he went through several a day, and Zuko didn’t know how he managed to get that messy washing dishes), and there was a terribly uncertain expression on his face. 

“What is it?” Zuko asked, resigned to whatever threats Sokka wanted to levy against him. 

Sokka twisted his apron in his hands. He wasn’t looking at Zuko, but at the shelves of tea leaves and baking materials around them. 

“I wanted to apologize,” he said.

Zuko stared at him, not sure if he had heard him right.

“I was being rude to you on purpose,” Sokka continued in a rush, as though he thought Zuko would interrupt him. “No matter how shitty you were in high school, there’s no excuse for me to be shitty back to you now.”

Zuko frowned. “Did my uncle speak to you?”

Sokka’s eyes widened, and that was answer enough for Zuko. Zuko sighed and looked down at his spreadsheet.

“My uncle is overprotective,” he said. “You don’t have to apologize because he asked you to.”

“That’s not why I’m apologizing.” When Zuko glanced up again, Sokka had shifted his gaze to actually look at Zuko. “I mean, he did talk to me, but I felt bad before that, too. Look- we didn’t get along in high school, but it’s been years since then, and you’ve done nothing but help me since I started working here. Besides, Toph vouched for you, so-” Sokka shrugged as though that was that.

“You do realize it’s my job to help train you, right?”

“I know, but you still could have been a jerk about it. Hey, I’m trying to be nice here, alright?”

Zuko almost dropped his clipboard when Sokka jumped forward. He raised his arm and for one wild moment Zuko thought Sokka was about to punch him. 

“Can we start over?” Sokka asked instead, offering his hand.

Disoriented, Zuko scanned Sokka’s face for sincerity. He was half-inclined to believe that the guy was just fucking with him, and would laugh the second Zuko tried to accept the olive branch. But Sokka’s blue eyes were earnest and genuine, his lips fixed in a small, awkward smile. In Zuko’s memories Sokka was still a scrawny twig of a boy with gangly limbs and ears that were too big for the rest of him, but some kind of late-stage puberty must have hit him like a truck after graduation. He had a nice jawline, Zuko thought idly, and then he mentally kicked himself because _not the time Zuko._

Zuko hesitantly took Sokka’s hand. He hoped his palms weren’t sweaty.

“I’m Sokka,” he said, his smile a little more genuine now. “Nice to re-meet you.”

“Zuko.” Zuko offered a small smile back in return.

They kept their hands clasped together for a moment before Sokka let go and stepped back. “Cool,” he said. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to go, uh, grab those cups. Iroh’s probably waiting, and- yeah. Talk to you later?”

“Sure,” Zuko said.

He watched Sokka turn and leave, and okay- he knew that his uncle was an expert at guilt-tripping and Sokka probably just felt bad, but he couldn’t help but feel that some of the weight on his shoulders had been lifted.

Zuko turned back to the boxes of tea leaves and raised his clipboard again, marking down four for green tea.

X X X X X 

Zuko’s phone rang while he was studying for his economics class that night. He picked it up, glanced at the screen, and felt a smile rise on his face at the familiar name. 

“Hi, Mai,” he said as he answered.

“Zuko.” Mai’s voice was as flat and succinct as usual, but it was still a relief to hear. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” Zuko said, leaning back in his chair. He reached up to push his reading glasses up and rub the bridge of his nose. He had been staring at his computer screen for too long, and had a headache now. “How have you been?”

“Ty Lee just bought a juicer. You can guess how I’ve been.”

Zuko grinned. “Let me guess, she uses it at five in the morning before her runs?” 

“I haven’t slept in days, Zuko.”

“Pity. I know you need your beauty sleep.”

“Don’t be an ass. How’s school?”

Zuko glanced at the article he’d been reading. He had been looking at it for so long the words were swimming on the page. “It’s… keeping me busy.” He hesitated, then said, “How is everyone?”

He knew that Mai would read between the lines. He also knew that she wouldn’t call him out for it.

“Everyone is well,” she said. “Ty Lee is still working on her yoga certification. Azula made the dean’s list last semester.”

“Wow,” Zuko said, his heart sinking. Of course she had. “And, uh, she’s still working at our father’s company?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Zuko said. “That’s great. I’m sure she’s doing a great job.”

Mai was quiet for a long minute. Zuko scratched at his desk with his nail, digging his finger into the wooden grooves. 

“Have you spoken to your father at all?” she asked finally.

“No. You know his rule.” 

“I know it’s stupid.”

“He’s only doing what he thinks is best.”

Mai paused for a moment, and then said in a quiet voice, “Ty Lee is too positive. I miss your complaining.”

Zuko’s chest tightened. He stood up and paced to the other side of his room, swallowing several times before he was able to speak.

“I miss your complaining, too,” he said. 

“We should hang out sometime. Just us.”

Just them, because no one else was able to look Zuko in the eye. Right.

“Azula would be upset if she found out,” he said.

“I know.”

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut. God, he missed Mai. They had gone through a rough patch after breaking up in high school, but she had always been steady, reliable, and he missed her so much it hurt sometimes. 

“I’d like that,” he managed to say.

He heard a voice on Mai’s side, a high-pitched voice that he guessed was Ty Lee. “We’ll set something up soon,” Mai promised. “I have to get going. It was nice to hear your voice.”

“Yours as well. Thanks for calling, Mai.”

There was another silence, and Zuko thought for a second that she had hung up. Then Mai said, “I’m still here for you, Zuko.”

Zuko smiled thinly at his wall. “I know,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later, Mai.”

“Bye, Zuko.”

He lowered his phone and dropped it on his bed. Taking a slow, steadying breath, Zuko raised his hands and dug his fingers into his hair, pulling so hard it stung. 

He wanted to scream, but his uncle would hear him and come running, so instead Zuko turned and went back to his desk. He sat down and stared blankly at his computer screen. He still had another few hours of studying to do before he could sleep, but it suddenly felt impossible to even think about reading another word.

Zuko couldn’t afford to put it off, though. He rubbed his eyes one more time, readjusted his glasses, then settled in to continue working. And if he never went to bed at all that night, that was his own problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say I love Zuko and Toph's friendship? God tier. 
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for the positive response to the first chapter. I loved reading all your comments and they motivated me to get this chapter out so quickly! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed <3


	3. Chapter 3

“Sokka, stop checking the rice,” Gran Gran said, pointing a cutting knife at him from across the kitchen. “If you stir it too much it will go mushy.”

Sokka dropped the lid back on the rice cooker and crossed his arms. “I don’t know why I always get stuck with the easy jobs,” he said, glaring over at Katara. 

“Last week you set the broccoli on fire,” said Katara from the stove. She twisted her wrist, expertly flipping the salmon filet. It hit the hot oil in the pan and sizzled loudly, sending up waves of warm steam that Katara ducked out of the way of. 

“Rice, if well done, is the complement to a dish that ties it all together,” Gran Gran said, neatly slicing another row of corn kernels off the cob. She raised a weathered eyebrow at Sokka. “If poorly done, it will ruin the meal.”

Sokka pointedly dropped his spoon on the counter. “I’m not touching it!”

“Oh, good, then you have time to set the table,” Gran Gran said, bringing her knife down with another decisive slice. 

Grumbling to himself, Sokka went. 

The evening only got worse from there. The first thirty seconds of their meal was quiet and pleasant. Then, Gran Gran passed him the succotash and asked, “How’s your new job, Sokka?” 

“Yeah, Sokka,” Katara said, slapping a spoonful of rice onto her plate. “How’s your new job?”

Sokka shot a glare at her. “It’s fine,” he said. “The owner is really chill and the pay is great. No complaints here.”

“Yeah, no complaints,” said Katara. She turned to look at Gran Gran with a broad, fake smile. “Sokka loves his coworkers!”

Sokka dumped sauce over his fish and then slammed the bowl back down in the center of the table. “Maybe I do, Katara,” he said. “What are you going to do about it, huh? Sabotage me because my life isn’t working out exactly how you planned it?”

“I’m sorry,” Gran Gran said, cutting off what looked like a passionate retort from Katara before she could even start. “I was under the impression that my grandkids were adults now, and too old to be acting like children.”

Sokka and Katara glared at each other for a few more seconds before they each picked up their chopsticks and started digging angrily into their food.

Gran Gran took a sip of her water, regarding both of them for a moment. “Can someone calmly explain to me what the issue is?”

“Sokka is working with a boy from our high school who tormented all of us every day.” 

“It’s not like I did it on purpose!”

“That nasty group of children that pushed Aang into the river?” Gran Gran asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Exactly! He could have drowned,” Katara shot at Sokka.

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Aang floats.” 

“It’s like you’ve just forgiven every awful thing he did to us!” 

“I haven’t forgiven him, Katara, but I need this job. Just because life magically works out for you all the time-”

“Don’t you dare turn this back around on me! Do you not remember how much shit Zuko gave us? Remember what he said to Aang about Gyatso?”

“You seem awfully concerned about Aang, Katara,” Sokka snapped, reveling in the immediate flush it brought to Katara’s cheeks. 

“Enough,” Gran Gran said sharply. “If you two aren’t going to be able to speak civilly, then we won’t speak at all.”

For several long seconds, the only sound in the dining room was chopsticks clinking against plates. And then, because Sokka had no impulse control, he muttered, “Sorry we can’t all be Ms. Perfect.”

“Ugh!” Sokka jumped when Katara slammed her hands down on the table, making the dishes clatter. She stood up, sending her chair and her braid flying, spun on her heel, and stalked out of the room.

“You can’t just hide in your room!” Sokka shouted after her.

“I have half a mind to send _you_ to your room.” Gran Gran was glaring at him.

“She started it!” 

“And you continued to antagonize her.”

“Well she’s antagonizing!” Gran Gran raised her eyebrows at him, and Sokka deflated. “Sorry, Gran Gran,” he said, shoulders slumping forward. 

“Good,” Gran Gran said. “This boy at work- is he being rude to you?”

“No,” Sokka said, and was surprised to find it was the truth. “He’s actually been, uh. Weirdly nice. And anyways, I couldn’t quit even if he was, I dunno, dumping hot tea on me every thirty seconds. I’ve looked, but nowhere else is hiring with that kind of pay.” 

“If he’s not being unpleasant, then I see no reason you should quit,” Gran Gran said. “You must understand, however, that Katara perceives this boy as someone who has hurt the people she cared about in the past, and she’s likely afraid he’ll do it again.” 

Sokka scowled at his plate. “Can’t she try and communicate that with a little less yelling at me?”

“Ah. Then she wouldn’t be Katara.” Gran Gran sighed and stood up. “Don’t eat the rest of the rice.”

“Where are you going?” Sokka asked, swiveling in his seat to watch his grandmother walk towards the doorway.

“I’m going to go and check on your sister,” she said, shooting him a pointed look before she disappeared. 

As soon as she was gone, Sokka shoved his plate aside and let his head thunk loudly onto the dining room table. 

“It’s always my fault,” he muttered into the wood.

X X X X X

Ever since Sokka and Zuko had decided to start fresh- and yeah, Sokka would be kicking himself for _that_ stunt for awhile, why had he _shaken his hand holy shit_ \- Sokka hadn’t been quite sure how to act around him. 

Before, the only talking they had done was when Sokka was insulting him or Zuko had been snapping back. Now that they were finished with that, it seemed the conversational topics they had between them had boiled down to a solid zero. 

Every question he thought of somehow turned rude in its course from Sokka’s brain to his mouth, even if they didn’t start off that way. _What happened to your psycho sister?_ he bit his tongue on as Zuko passed him a tray of dirty dishes. _Did you actually end up failing US History? Does your scar get sunburnt?_

Yeah, Sokka was trying to _not_ get murdered by his maybe-evil-maybe-not ex-schoolmate. 

Several days of awkward silence and dancing around each other when their shifts overlapped passed before Sokka finally found a safe topic to seize.

He had been wiping down tables in the front of the shop while Zuko hopped from table to table freshening cups of tea. Sokka thought it was funny to watch him; he had always been so pretentious in high school, so comfortable flaunting his wealth, that it was weird watching him serve people with remarkably good customer service. 

So Sokka was watching when he stopped at a table occupied by a young woman. She looked about their age, with two brown braids and fluffy bangs. She and Zuko chatted while he poured her tea, and she even _laughed_ a few times, which was a huge red flag because Zuko was the least funny person Sokka had ever met. 

When Zuko set the teapot back down on her table, she reached out to touch his hand as she thanked him, and Sokka felt a smirk crawl onto his face.

Sokka slung the dish rag he was using over his shoulder and turned to follow Zuko when he returned to the kitchen.

“She’s into you, you know,” he announced as soon as he had slipped through the curtains.

Zuko, who had been carefully measuring tea leaves into a strainer, looked up. His face was twisted into his usual frown. Seriously, this dude _never_ smiled. It was a little depressing. 

“What?” 

“That girl out there,” Sokka said. He wandered over to the counter Zuko was working at and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “I’ve seen her come in a few times. She’s into you.” 

Zuko shook his head, dark hair falling across his eyes. “No, she’s not,” he muttered, picking up the measuring spoon and dipping it back into the box of leaves.

“My dude, I am well-versed with the ladies. And that one?” Sokka jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Was all over you. She’s cute, too. How’d you manage that?”

Zuko set the spoon down and reached out for the kettle he had set on the stove, which had just started boiling.

Sokka tried really hard not to sigh. At least when he had thought Zuko was out to get him, things had been interesting around here. 

“You were dating that goth girl in high school, weren’t you? Did you break up?”

“Her name is Mai. And yes, we broke up.”

Sokka winced. “Sorry, dude,” he said. “But hey, if you’re single then you can go after that girl out there! I can give you a few tips if you want. And I’m a great wingman! What’d’ya say?” 

Zuko was pouring the hot water slowly over the tea leaves and resolutely not looking at Sokka. 

“I’m not interested,” he said.

“But she’s super hot! What, are you gay or something?”

Sokka meant it as a jest, but Zuko startled so badly his hand on the kettle slipped, splashing hot water on his fingers. Sokka jumped as Zuko hissed in pain and slammed the kettle back down on the stove.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Sokka asked, wide eyes fixed on Zuko’s fingers. That water had been boiling, at the very least. Why did Sokka have to mess everything up? 

“I’m fine,” Zuko snapped, glaring down at his own hand as if it had offended him.

“I’m sorry,” Sokka said, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other and back again, “that was so rude of me, oh my god I promise I’m not homophobic-”

“I’m not gay!” 

“Okay,” Sokka said, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, my bad.”

Zuko whirled back around and snatched up the kettle again. “Why are you talking to me?”

“I thought we agreed we were going to start over.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to pry into my private life!” 

“Well I’m sorry for trying to strike up a conversation, Mr. Gloom and Doom!” 

“You should be!” 

Sokka felt his anger flare back up. “Fuck this,” he said, reaching up to snatch the dish rag off of his shoulder. He turned around and stalked away towards the curtain and the sweet, sweet escape it offered him.

“Wait,” Zuko called just as Sokka had grabbed the fabric to throw it aside. Sokka turned around to glare at him. Zuko was still standing by the counter, head ducked low to hide his face. He was several inches taller than Sokka, but he looked smaller with his shoulders hunched like that.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You know,” said Sokka. “If you were a little nicer, maybe you wouldn’t have to apologize as much.”

Sokka’s shift ended thirty minutes later, thank god. He spent the rest of it wiping down every square inch of the front of the shop, and when it was over he ducked into the back, grabbed his bag, and split before Zuko could say anything else to him.

Sokka made it out the door and halfway down the block before he felt safe enough to slow down. He hiked his messenger bag up more securely on his shoulder and reached inside for his phone as he slowed his pace down. His fingers brushed unfamiliar paper and he frowned.

“Huh?” he murmured to himself as he pulled out a crumpled white bag. He peeked inside to see one of the cherry tarts he had been drooling over in the shop all day tucked neatly inside. It had been their pastry of the day, and it had looked incredible, but Sokka had decided that Iroh was too nice to steal from (a pity).

Who had slipped one into his bag?

Sokka put the tart away and kept walking, frowning thoughtfully. He debated going back to return it, but quickly decided against that; whoever had put it in there had obviously wanted him to have it, and it would be rude of him to give it back, right? Right.

Still, it made him feel a little weird, even as he devoured it later that day in three swift bites.

It was definitely the best thing he’d ever eaten, though.

X X X X X

“Oh!” Sokka tipped his head to the right, squinting at the screen. He clicked rapidly on the A button, watching his character on the screen flip around and shoot a beam of light at Aang’s character to blast it off the screen. “Ha!” Sokka shouted, dropping his controller in his lap and twisting in his seat to point at Aang. “I win again!”

“Aw, man,” Aang said, lowering his controller with a grin. “I’ll get you next time. I’m getting better at attacking!”

“You do too much dodging,” Sokka agreed. “That’s a good strategy in real life when I can get tired, but not so much in Super Smash Bros.”

“You’re so right, Sokka,” Toph said from the floor. She was lying on her back, bare feet kicked up on Sokka’s coffee table. “That was super fun to watch!”

“Sorry, Toph,” said Aang. He leaned forward and set his controller down on the table. “We’re done now.”

“We are?” Aang shot a look at Sokka, and he sighed, dropping his own controller off the side of the couch. “Oh, alright.” 

“No, don’t stop on my behalf,” Toph said. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your manly bonding time, since the princess isn’t here.”

“Where _is_ Katara?” Aang asked. 

Sokka crossed his arms. “How am I supposed to know?”

Toph groaned loudly and let her legs thud to the floor. “Are you two still fighting?” she asked, sitting up and glaring at Sokka’s shoulder. 

“ _S_ _he’s_ the one that’s fighting, not me.” 

“About Zuko?” Aang asked with a frown. “She’s still mad about that?”

“Right?” Sokka threw his hands in the air. “Like, what am I supposed to do, quit? It’s not that bad.”

“Zuko’s chill now,” said Toph.

“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“This isn’t fair,” Aang said, slumping down against the couch and throwing his lower lip out in a pout. “I want to be Zuko’s friend, too.”

“No one is Zuko’s friend!” 

“I’m Zuko’s friend, booger brains,” Toph said. 

“Traitor,” Sokka said. Toph flipped him off. Sokka stuck his tongue out at her.

Aang straightened up again. “When’s his next shift, Sokka?” he asked with a determined set to his expression.

“No, you are not about to go pressure him into friendship at work,” Sokka said. “Toph already did that.”

“And I’d do it again!” 

“Aw, please, Sokka,” Aang said, clasping his hands together and turning wide grey eyes on Sokka. “I want to see Zuko’s character development, too.” 

“Shouldn’t you be on Katara’s side?” Toph asked. 

Aang blinked. “Why would I be on Katara’s side?”

Toph and Sokka exchanged long-suffering looks. 

“We’ll have that conversation later,” Sokka said. “Can we please stop talking about Zuko now? I see enough of him at work.”

“Sokka won’t tell me if he got hot,” Toph said to Aang.

“He didn’t get hot!”

“I don’t believe him,” Toph said. 

“I can go and tell you if-”

“No you absolutely cannot,” Sokka interrupted him. 

“I don’t get why the sugar plum fairy is still mad,” said Toph. “So he was annoying a few years ago, whoop-de-doo. He’s a big dork now. It’s far less impressive.”

“He and his friends _were_ really mean to her,” Aang said. “His sister used to say all that stuff about- uh.”

Sokka very carefully didn’t look at him. “I get why she’s mad,” he said, flopping back against the couch cushions. “It would just make my life a whole lot easier if she wasn’t.” 

“It’s Katara,” Toph said. “Give her a few days to cool off and she’ll be back.” 

Sokka sighed. He hated fighting with his sister. It didn’t happen often- not real, genuine fights, anyways- but when it did it always completely soured his mood. Normally he would have been considering apologizing at this point, because Katara was even more stubborn than he was when she got her mind fixed on something. He wasn’t about to apologize for not quitting his job, though. 

“Hey,” Toph said. “Pass me a controller. I’m going to kick your guys’ asses.”

“You can’t see the screen,” Aang said, but he was grinning as he handed over his controller to Toph.

“Don’t need to,” said Toph. “I heard you two clowns struggling. Just point me in a direction and I’ll start hitting buttons, he’ll never see it coming.”

For the next hour they lost themselves in the game. Aang and Toph worked in tandem, with Aang serving as Toph’s eyes and telling her which direction to aim her attacks. Sokka was better, of course, but he was glad that Toph couldn’t actually see how close she was coming to beating him.

The two of them got a little cocky for Sokka’s taste, but they were excellent distractions, and Sokka was grateful for it.

X X X X X

As the weeks went on and Sokka got more comfortable at the Jasmine Dragon, Iroh began moving his shifts from the middle of the day to the end of the day. Sokka didn’t mind, because it meant that he could go back to sleeping in until late in the afternoon. Also, Zuko seemed to favor the morning shifts, so it drastically lowered the opportunities they had to interact with one another.

Sokka liked the evening shifts. There were less customers, and Iroh had even started letting Sokka help with taking orders and serving tea. Sokka was glad, because as much as he liked easy work, he got bored locked up in the kitchen washing dishes all day. The people that came into the tea shop were all fun to talk to. Most of the regulars were old people who came in halfway through the day and stayed to chat with one another until close. There was a group of elderly women who had taken a liking to Sokka in particular, and spent a lot of time poking at his arms and complimenting his manners and generally boosting his ego in all the ways his friends had stopped doing years ago.

Sokka had been worried that Iroh wouldn’t trust him anymore after that conversation they’d had, and was grateful to find that wasn’t the case. Oh, sure, it had been absolutely terrifying; Iroh had pulled him aside and informed him that while Sokka wasn’t obligated to forgive Zuko, he definitely had to be polite to him if he wanted to keep his job. He’d never seen Iroh so serious, and Sokka had been fully convinced that he was on the chopping block for the little stunt he’d pulled.

It hadn’t even been that necessary. Sokka actually _had_ felt bad about how harsh he’d been on Zuko, a fact that had been hammered into him by Toph later that same day. And, although he wouldn’t admit it even if someone held him at swordpoint and tried to force him to, Zuko actually wasn’t that bad. 

He was a little weird and quiet, but now that Sokka wasn’t actively looking for things to hate him for, he realized that Zuko was mostly just awkward. Sokka had watched him fumble with tea cups and stammer over his words with customers too often to be super intimidated by him now. Whatever confidence he’d possessed in high school had faded, leaving behind a young man who stammered when customers thanked him and spent hours arranging pastries in the glass case by the front counter so they looked perfect when his uncle came by to check.

Sokka was getting frustrated by something else entirely now. At some point he had come to the conclusion that Zuko really wasn’t the evil mastermind they’d all assumed him to be. But he’d definitely shed a lot of malice since high school, and Sokka couldn’t figure out _why_. Zuko and his sister had gloated about their father’s empire every day in school, had dangled their built-in successful careers over everyone’s head like bait on a hook to get a rise out of them. Now, Zuko was waiting tables at his uncle’s tea shop.

What had happened? 

“You’re staring again,” Toph said, digging her fingers into the blueberry muffin she was destroying and shoving a handful of crumbs into her mouth.

Sokka blinked and turned away from Zuko, who had been serving tea to the same girl from before. She had upped her flirting techniques; Sokka had been watching her flip her hair and giggle and touch Zuko’s arm every chance she got for the last fifteen minutes. 

“How do you know?” he asked, turning back around in his seat and crossing his arms.

“I can hear your brain sizzling from trying to think too hard.”

“You’re really mean,” Sokka said. “I know I’ve said that before, but I feel like no one ever takes me seriously.”

“You’re right, we don’t,” Toph said. She propped her chin up on her fist and smirked at him, hair falling across her eyes. “So are you going to tell me if jerkface is hot now?”

“I already said he isn’t.”

Toph puckered her lips and blew a raspberry at him. “I don’t believe you,” she said. “You’re still staring.”

Sokka snapped his eyes away from where Zuko was _still_ talking to that girl, embarrassed that he’d been caught again. “I’m not,” he said, because there’s no way that Toph could really prove it, anyways. “I’m suspicious, alright? So, okay, maybe he’s not this scary evil guy anymore, maybe he’s changed- but why?”

“I don’t know what you all want from him,” Toph said. “He’s mean to us and you hate him. He says he’s sorry and tries to be nice, and you hate him. Straight people are weird.” 

“I don’t hate him,” Sokka said. “I just don’t trust him.”

“That’s stupid. Watch.” Toph stood up and thrust her hand into the air, waving wildly and catching Zuko’s attention across the room before Sokka could stop her.

“Hey!” Sokka hissed at her as Zuko deviated from the course he’d set towards the kitchen to approach their table. He was rewarded by a sharp kick to his shin under the table, and bit his tongue hard to keep from crying out. 

“Can I get you guys something?” Zuko asked, drawing up beside their table and resting the tray of dirty dishes he’d been carrying against his hip. If he noticed that Sokka was half hunched over in his seat and rubbing his sore leg, he didn’t comment on it.

“I want another muffin,” said Toph. “Also, Sokka won’t tell me if you got hot.”

“Toph!” Sokka said as Zuko instantly went a dark shade of red. 

“What?” Toph asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction. “If you won’t do it, I’m going to go straight to the source. So, Zoboomafoo? Have you gotten hotter since high school?” 

“I, uh,” Zuko said. He tried to shift the tray to his other hip and accidentally fumbled it. A stack of tea cups slid towards the edge and Zuko slammed his hand down on them, making the porcelain clink loudly together. “Oh, I- I don’t think-”

“Toph, that’s a weird thing to ask someone,” Sokka said. His own cheeks felt warm, and he hadn’t even been the topic of the question.

“That’s because you can see, dumbass. I have to ask. Don’t be ableist.” Toph tilted her head back to face Zuko. “So? Hot or not?”

“Um,” Zuko said. Sokka didn’t know how he put up with his hair falling in his eyes all the time. “I don’t- I don’t know. Uh, I’m- I’m going to go get your muffin now.”

He spun on his heel and disappeared.

“Nice going, Toph,” Sokka said. “I think you literally gave him a mental breakdown.”

“That’s exactly my point,” said Toph. “You really think _that_ guy is some kind of evil genius?”

“No, and you didn’t need to make him uncomfortable to prove it!” 

“Zuko’s fine,” Toph said, flapping a hand at him dismissively. 

Sokka rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so invested in him, anyways.”

Toph shrugged. “I like the chaos.”

Sokka frowned and glanced back up to see Zuko approaching their table. His expression looked carefully blank, but there were still spots of red on his cheeks, creeping out from under the rough edges of his scar.

“Hey, dork,” Toph said. Sokka had never figured out how she always knew exactly who was approaching and when. “Sorry for putting you on the spot like that.”

“It’s fine,” Zuko said, his voice a lot more even than before. He set down a plate with a muffin neatly arranged in the center of it. “We’re out of blueberry. This is chocolate chip.”

“Thanks!”

Zuko’s mouth thinned in what passed as a smile for him before he turned and left.

Sokka leaned back in his seat and watched him go. Okay, Toph had been right the whole time. The guy was just awkward, probably not evil, and really bad at answering questions about himself. 

Something about him still didn’t add up, though. And if there was one thing Sokka hated, it was not knowing something.

“You’re staring again,” Toph said.

Sokka glared at her. “Shut up, Toph.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I am blown away by the responses I've received to this story so far. Thank you, thank you for all your kind comments, kudos, and hits <3 I hope you enjoyed this chapter + a lil more Sokka/Zuko interaction! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes Zuko regretted attending college online and not in person, like his uncle had recommended. Iroh had tried to push Zuko towards a traditional college course, citing all the fun he had had at university, but Zuko had been resolute in his opinion that he had nothing to gain from shipping himself off to campus other than more irritated peers. If the kids in high school had been uncomfortable with his scar, Zuko didn’t want to imagine what they were like with higher vocabularies.

He had learned over the past few years, however, that he wasn’t well-suited to learning online. He got bored sitting at his computer for too long and too restless while reading articles or watching videos. He had never been a straight-A student- that honor had gone to Azula, of course- but Zuko had been decent enough in high school. 

Now as his courses continued, it felt like passing each one was a struggle. Uncle told Zuko he was proud every time he finished off a class with a B or a C, but Zuko knew better. He had to do better, and quickly, if he had any hope of proving himself to his father.

Zuko clicked through the slideshow he was working off of, skimming the titles for each slide. If the rest of his classes were a little challenging, statistics was downright impossible. The most annoying thing was that it wasn’t even hard work at all; Zuko just couldn’t wrap his head around the concepts enough to do well on his assignments. He had an exam coming up in two weeks, and if he didn’t do well on it he was in danger of failing the class. And if he failed the class he’d have to retake it again, and he’d be behind an entire semester-

“Hey.” Zuko looked up to see Sokka standing on the opposite side of the counter. He was wiping off the pastry display case and craning his neck to try and look at Zuko’s laptop screen. “Watcha doing?”

Zuko closed his laptop with a sharp click. “Nothing.”

Sokka raised his eyebrows. “Calm down, dude. Were you surfing the web for porn or something?”

“No,” Zuko said, heat rising in his cheeks. No matter what he said, Sokka always found some way to embarrass him for it. 

Sokka crouched down to work on the bottom of the case. Zuko noticed that one of his ears was pierced. He had a shark’s tooth dangling from it. 

“Well, whatever it was, it looked like thinking about it hurt,” he said.

Zuko dropped his eyes to stare at his laptop. After a moment, he opened it back up.

“It’s for a class I’m taking,” he muttered as his screen flickered back to life.

“Oh, do you go to the university, too? My sister’s there. My friend Aang, too. Do you remember him? He was bald in high school.”

Zuko barely held back a cringe. Yeah, he remembered Aang. He had _hated_ the kid. The funny thing was, Zuko couldn’t really remember why. 

“It’s for online school, actually.”

Sokka hunched his head down to scrub at a particularly stubborn spot in the lower corner of the glass. “What is this, Sharpie?” he asked, and then raised his head to blink up at Zuko. “I didn’t know you were going to online school. What are you studying?”

Zuko stared hard at his computer screen, definitions for words he couldn’t remember learning about staring back at him. Why was Sokka talking to him? He usually avoided Zuko like the plague whenever they were scheduled together.

“Business.”

Sokka stood up, an easy grin on his face. “That’s dope,” he said. He came around the counter, walking to join Zuko at his laptop. If he noticed Zuko tense up, he didn’t say anything. “What class is giving you trouble?”

“Uh,” Zuko said, because Sokka was suddenly next to him, and his arm was brushing Zuko’s as he leaned in close to the screen.

“Hey, is this stats?” Sokka perked up when he saw the slideshow. “Dude, I totally aced stats in high school. It was my best class.” He twisted his head to look at Zuko, shark’s tooth waving from his earlobe. “Do you need help?”

“What?”

“I can help if it’s giving you trouble,” Sokka said. When Zuko still didn’t respond, his smile dropped. “I mean- yeah, you can probably just hire a tutor or something, right? Sorry, I didn’t-”

“You’re offering to help me?” Zuko said, mind still stuck on what Sokka had said.

Sokka shrugged. “If you want,” he said. “It seems a shame to waste this beautiful mind of mine.”

Zuko frowned at his computer, then at Sokka. “Why?”

Sokka looked a little uncomfortable. “I mean,” he said. “We’re coworkers, right? We should help each other out.”

Zuko still couldn’t quite understand when Sokka had gone from actively disliking him to offering to help him with his statistics course. “I, uh, don’t think I would be able to pay you.”

Sokka scoffed. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’m sure there are other ways you can pay me back!” He glanced at Zuko’s expression, and his eyes widened. “Oh, I mean- I just meant, like, you could give me free pastries or something, I didn’t- forget it, I didn’t mean to-” Sokka twisted the rag in his hands and took a step back towards the kitchen. “I’ll let you keep working, I-”

“I could use help,” Zuko blurted out before Sokka could leave. Sokka stopped retreating to stare at him. “I mean,” Zuko said, and _fuck_ he wished he knew how to communicate properly. “If you would actually, uh. Be okay with that. I wouldn’t mind some tutoring.”

“Oh,” Sokka said. There was a small smile growing on his face. He had a nice smile. “Cool! Just like, let me know.”

“Okay,” Zuko said. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem, man,” Sokka said. He was still just standing there, holding a dirty rag in both hands, looking awkwardly at Zuko.

Thankfully, Iroh poked his head out of the kitchen to save them both. “Zuko,” he said. “Can I speak to you in my office for a moment? Sokka, if you would be so kind as to watch the register for him.”

“Sure,” Zuko said, shutting his laptop and stepping aside to let Sokka take his place. He wiped his palms on his apron as he followed his uncle through the curtain and into his office.

“What is it, Uncle?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“Take a seat, Zuko,” Iroh said. He had a small table set up in the corner with his personal tea set, where he was brewing a pot for them. Zuko sat in his usual armchair and tucked his legs up under him, staring at the tapestry on the wall while Iroh prepared their drinks. 

“It was a family heirloom, you know.” Iroh approached Zuko, holding out a steaming cup with a warm smile. “Your ancestors were a strong family during the Han Dynasty. This tapestry depicts one of the many battles they won in defense of their land.”

Zuko accepted the tea, wrapping his hands around the warm china. “Thank you,” he said, then turned back to the intricately woven figures. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was given to me by your grandfather,” Iroh said. He sat down across from Zuko. “I saw you speaking with Sokka. I’m glad that you two are getting along.”

Zuko raised his cup and took a small sip, shoulders relaxing at the first taste of chamomile. “He offered to tutor me in statistics.”

Iroh looked pleased. “That’s very kind of him.” 

Zuko ran his thumb along the rim of his cup. “Did you need to speak to me about something, Uncle?”

Iroh hummed and took a sip of his tea. “I am afraid it is not a pleasant topic of conversation,” he said, an apology in his tone. “I received a call from your father.”

Zuko straightened up. “What did he say?”

“He wanted an update on your schooling. I thought you would like to know.”

“Oh,” Zuko said. It suddenly felt too warm in the office, like someone had lit a fire nearby. “Why didn’t he call me?”

Iroh’s expression held nothing but pity in it. It made Zuko’s skin crawl.

“I’m sure if you would like to speak to him-” he started, and Zuko shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I don’t.” He took another long sip of his tea, letting it sit on his tongue for a moment before swallowing, grateful for the burn. “What did you tell him?”

“That you were doing very well.”

“I got a C last semester.”

Iroh frowned. “That’s a passing grade, is it not?”

Zuko shook his head. “It’s not good enough,” he said. “I’m trying to figure out if I can retake the class, but I’m already in too many hours this semester. During winter break I’m planning on-”

“I hope that sentence ends with relaxing,” Iroh said. When Zuko scowled at him, he sighed and said, “Zuko, you are too hard on yourself.”

“No, I’m not,” Zuko said. “I’m on track to graduate next semester, but only if I keep my GPA up. Father will never trust me with anything if I can’t even do well in online classes.”

“Zuko,” Iroh said. “I hope that you are earning this degree for _yourself_ as much as you are for your father’s sake.”

It was a discussion they’d had many times before, and each time Iroh tried to broach the subject it only annoyed Zuko more and more. He loved his uncle, he did, but Iroh just didn’t understand that this was something Zuko _had_ to do. He had to prove himself, not only to his father and his sister, but to himself.

That would never happen if he kept fucking up like he always did. 

“I’m fine, Uncle.” Zuko set his cup down on a side table and stood up. He clasped his hands together and dipped into a shallow bow. “Thank you for passing along the news,” he said, eyes fixed on the green carpet underfoot. “I should go relieve Sokka from the register. Is there anything else you need from me?”

Iroh was quiet for a long moment. “No,” he said finally. “Thank you, Zuko.”

Zuko nodded. “Uncle.”

He was halfway out the door before his uncle said behind him, “Your destiny is yours to shape, Zuko. I hope you understand that.”

Zuko curled his fingers into the wood of the door. He left without saying anything, slamming the door a little too hard behind him.

X X X X X

It was early November, which happened to be one of Zuko’s favorite times of the year. Growing up he had always favored summer; he liked the warm sun, and before his mother had left they had spent most of their vacations at their beach house. When Ursa had gone, his father had elected to stay home to be closer to his work. Zuko had spent the long, hot days inside the mansion spending less and less time with his sister and fantasizing about fall, about changing leaves and cool early morning fog. 

Zuko shoved his hands into his pockets, bracing himself against the chill. It was early in the day, and Zuko had decided to take a rare break from his schoolwork to go on a walk. He should have worn a thicker sweater. Snow wasn’t due to come for another few weeks, but the tip of his nose already stung with the chill.

Red leaves crunched underfoot as he turned a corner, tracing the suburban streets towards the local park. He had his routine down perfectly. It took ten minutes to get to the park, five minutes to walk the perimeter, and another ten minutes to walk home. He’d be back at his computer in half an hour, which was good because he still had an essay to finish up.

He could see the park in the distance when he heard leaves crunching wildly behind him, and then a voice shouted, “Hey!” Zuko whirled around, hands coming up to defend himself in time for something huge to collide solidly with his chest, effectively knocking the wind out of him.

“Down, boy!” called the voice again as Zuko stuck his hands out, feeling hair. Then there was a face in his, with wet brown eyes and long white fur, and Zuko turned his face away as the dog (who was large enough to rest its paws on Zuko’s shoulders, holy shit) leaned in to sloppily lick his cheek.

“Appa, get off of him! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Zuko stumbled back when the dog was pulled away, the weight falling off his shoulders. He reached up to wipe his cheek off with his sleeve and stared at the monstrosity of an animal in front of him and the kid wrestling him back.

“I’m so sorry,” the boy was babbling. He grabbed the dog’s leash and tugged him further away from Zuko despite the dog’s obvious desire to jump him again. “He’s not usually like this, he just- hey!” The boy had looked up at him, and Zuko’s heart fell straight into his stomach. “Zuko! Hi!” 

“Hi,” Zuko said, awkwardly shifting his gaze to the dog, who was panting and straining against his leash to get back to Zuko. 

“I don’t know if you- Appa, stop it! Sit!” Zuko was surprised when the dog sat down with a loud _crunch_ of the leaves. The boy straightened up, letting out a huff before beaming at Zuko. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Aang, we went to high school together!”

“I remember you,” Zuko said, wishing the sidewalk would open up and swallow him whole.

Of course he remembered Aang. He had been a few years behind Zuko in school, but he had matured a lot since Zuko had graduated. He was taller (still shorter than Zuko, but only barely), but still thin and wiry. Short black hair stuck out from underneath his red beanie, and there were tattoos creeping out from underneath the sleeves of his jacket, intricate black ink wrapping around both of his arms and wrists. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the big, toothy smile on his face. Zuko didn’t know why he was smiling at _him_. 

“Gee, this is a crazy coincidence,” Aang said. He scratched behind his dog’s ear. “I’m really sorry about Appa. I think he likes you, though!”

“That’s alright,” Zuko said, glancing at the dog. “He seems, uh. Nice?”

“You can pet him if you want! I promise he’s the sweetest, he just got excited.” Aang’s expression was so earnest that Zuko would have been a jerk to say no. Instead, he very slowly raised his hand, holding it out to the giant dog. Appa stood up and walked over to Zuko, sniffing his fingers. He seemed to approve of whatever he smelled, because he lowered his head and butted it against Zuko’s palm. Zuko couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his face as he scratched Appa’s head, trying to replicate the way he had seen Aang do it.

“Aw, he does like you!” Aang grinned at the two of them. “Appa’s a great judge of character, you know.”

“He’s huge,” Zuko said without thinking. Aang laughed before Zuko could apologize.

“I know,” he said. “He’s a white Russian terrier. Gyatso- he’s my guardian- thought he was going to be a lap dog, but he just kept growing!” Aang reached out to pat Appa’s haunch. “I was just taking him to the park to play for a little bit. Were you going there, too? We can walk together!” 

Zuko tried to say no, but Appa pressed forward and shoved his head so hard against Zuko’s hip he was forced to take a step, and then Aang was at his side and walking and Zuko found himself tugged along towards the park.

“This is so cool,” Aang said. He bounced as he walked, moving swiftly to step on every leaf that he could. “I wanted to stop by the Jasmine Dragon and say hi to you, but Sokka said I couldn’t. I knew the universe would pull through, though.”

“Sokka said that?” Zuko asked, dropping his gaze to his feet. He knew Sokka didn’t like when he talked to his friends, but he hadn’t thought his irritation with Zuko went that far.

As though reading his mind, Aang looked at Zuko with wide eyes, shaking his head. “Oh, no, not for any bad reason!” He jumped, landing on a pile of leaves with a perfect crunch. “He just thought that I would annoy you. Then I told him that was stupid, because Toph’s way more annoying than I am and she’s there like, all the time. But now that we ran into each other in the wild I’ll bet he’ll let me come. Gyatso makes a ton of tea and I don’t like it that much but I’m sure your uncle’s tea is really good. Appa, don’t sniff that,” Aang said, tugging on Appa’s leash to pull him away from another dog’s poop. 

“Oh,” Zuko said, because he was still trying to catch up with what Aang had said. He talked really fast. 

“Do you live around here?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said. “My uncle and I are a few blocks away.”

“Me too! I mean, not me and my uncle, me and Gyatso!” Aang’s cheeks had to hurt from smiling so much. “That’s crazy that we live so close to each other and didn’t know about it. You should totally come on more walks with me and Appa, he loves having people to play with.”

They had reached the park, which was really just a huge grassy area with a couple of swings and a slide off to the side, all of which were empty this early in the morning. Zuko trailed after Aang and Appa onto the grass, and watched as Aang crouched down to unclip Appa’s leash.

“Alright, boy.” Aang reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a dirty tennis ball. He drew his arm back and said, “Go get it!” as he let it fly.

It was an impressive throw. Appa bolted immediately, his barks carrying through the misty air as he sprinted after the ball.

“He’s super fast, too,” Aang said, watching his dog with a fond smile, and Zuko couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you being nice to me?” he blurted out.

Aang blinked. He looked at Zuko, smile slipping off his face. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?” he asked, sounding so confused it frustrated Zuko.

“I pushed you in a river,” Zuko snapped. He remembered that day with uncomfortable clarity- they had been on a class trip studying local wildlife, and Azula had noticed how distracted Aang was by the fish and commented slyly that it would be a shame if he fell in, and Zuko had just- done it. Because he wanted to make his sister laugh. And she had, as Aang had stood there, dripping with the freezing water. The river hadn’t been especially deep and the current hadn’t been strong, but Aang had been subject to a good amount of ridicule for the incident.

When their teacher had asked what had happened, Aang had told her that he tripped. The memory made Zuko burn with shame. 

“Oh,” Aang said. He scratched the back of his neck, looking awkward. “I mean. Yeah, you did. That wasn’t really cool.”

“No,” Zuko said. “So you don’t- you don’t have to be nice to me just because I work with Sokka.”

Appa’s footsteps were heavy as he ran back to them, tail wagging behind him and tennis ball clamped tightly in his mouth. Aang reached a hand down to let Appa drop the slimy ball in his palm, then drew his arm back to throw it again. Appa shot off like a bullet, just as fast as before.

“I know I don’t,” Aang said. “All that stuff was years ago, though. We were kids. Everyone makes mistakes.” 

Zuko glared out at the distant shape of Appa scooping up the tennis ball. “It wasn’t a mistake.”

Aang looked at the ground. “I know it wasn’t.”

Appa was bounding back towards them, ears flapping in the wind. Zuko shoved his hands into his pockets and wished again for warmer clothes. His irritation was fading as quickly as it had come, leaving behind an awful, overwhelming guilt.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, unable to look at Aang and see the disgust there, because Zuko was a coward and had never learned how to face the consequences of his own actions. “I was awful, and I shouldn’t have done any of that to you. I know it’s not enough, but I’m really, really sorry. For everything.”

Appa was panting loudly as he returned to them. Aang reached out to take the ball again. He looked at it, turning it over in his hand.

Then he turned and held it out to Zuko. “Wanna try?”

Zuko blinked, then hesitantly reached out to let Aang drop the ball into his hand. It was wet with dog slobber and dew from the grass, but Zuko curled his fingers around it anyways. He drew his arm back, took a deep breath, and threw it so hard he felt his shoulder pull in its socket. Appa let out a loud, excited bark, then turned to chase it.

“I appreciate your apology, Zuko,” Aang said. Zuko risked a look at him and found the same hesitantly pleased expression on his face from before. “I think you mean it.”

“I do.”

Aang nodded. “Cool,” he said. His mouth broke into a huge grin. “Then I accept it! It’s going to be super cool being your friend. Plus,” he said, laughing loudly when Appa slammed into Zuko’s side, knocking him off balance. “Appa really likes you!”

Appa was pressing the ball against Zuko’s hand. Zuko took it without thinking, still staring at Aang. “I- you don’t have to be my friend.” He knew that he had gone bright red. Sometimes he hated how pale he was. 

“I know I don’t,” Aang said. “I want to! You seem like a super cool guy now. Plus, Toph said that you make really good donuts. Can you make chocolate ones?” Appa barked, making Aang’s grin grow even wider. “You might want to throw that again before he has a fit.”

Zuko threw the ball, sending Appa away once more. “Uh,” he said, feeling something unfamiliar get stuck in his throat. “I can make chocolate donuts, sure.”

“Good, they’re my favorite,” Aang said, nodding in approval. “And you can totally come over and visit Appa whenever you want. I have a cat, too. His name is Momo. Do you like cats?”

Zuko was grateful that Aang was able to keep a conversation going almost by himself, because Zuko was too overwhelmed to articulate any coherent thoughts. They stayed at the park until Appa tired himself out, and then they left together, Aang chatting away about the classes he was taking and how great his mythology teacher was and how cool it was that Zuko got to work in a tea shop, and did Zuko also make muffins?

They parted ways a few blocks away from the park. Zuko crouched down to let Appa lick his face in goodbye, and Aang waved at him with his signature wide grin. 

“Bye!” he called as he tugged Appa down the street. “I’ll stop by the tea shop sometime soon! Let me know if you want to help walk Appa again, sorry he got drool on your jacket!”

Zuko raised his hand in an awkward wave, watching him go. Then he turned to trace the familiar path home. At some point in the morning the clouds had split, and the sun shone down, bringing with it a little bit of warmth to alleviate the chill. 

Zuko turned his face up to it, letting the heat touch his face, and breathed into the morning air.

X X X X X

Sokka was in a bad mood the next day.

Zuko knew this because he punctuated every exit and entrance with a loud, drawn-out sigh, and moped so badly even Zuko got the hint. Zuko made it almost through the entire day before he decided it’d be too rude not to ask.

“Are you alright?” he asked, setting the dirty cups he was carrying into the sink’s basin.

Sokka turned off the faucet and sighed again, even louder than before. “No.”

“Oh,” Zuko said. He stood there for a moment. “Um. Wanna talk about it?”

“I matched with this super hot girl on Tinder and we were talking for like three days straight and then I asked her if she wanted to see a movie with me and she hasn’t responded in thirteen hours, dude.” Sokka slumped back against the sink, lower lip stuck out in a pout.

“Maybe she’ll still respond?” Zuko tried, but Sokka just shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I can take a hint. I totally got ghosted.”

Zuko shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say. “That’s rough, buddy,” he said, and then winced.

Sokka snorted. “You’re telling me,” he said. He crossed his arms and looked at Zuko out of the corner of his eye. “Hey.”

Zuko raised his eyebrows. “Hey?”

“My friends and I have this tradition,” Sokka said. “Whenever one of us gets dumped or stood up or anything like that, we go get this monstrous milkshake at our favorite diner. It’s insane, they stick like, a whole slice of cake in there.”

“Sounds cool,” Zuko said, wondering why Sokka was telling him this story.

Sokka’s face brightened. “So you’ll come?”

“What?” Zuko blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Sokka said. “You’re closing tonight, right? I’ll help you out and get it done super fast so we can go.”

“Oh, I-” Zuko hesitated. Sokka was still smiling at him, teeth bared hopefully, and Zuko heard his own voice say, “Okay.”

“Great!” Sokka’s grin widened. “I’ll get started on these, then,” he said, reaching past Zuko to grab the dishes he’d left in the basin.

Zuko finished his shift in a kind of haze. He knew he had to think about this, plan, strategize- he and Sokka had hardly had a handful of conversations together, and now they were going to get _milkshakes?_ \- but all he could focus on was how awkward he was going to be and how Sokka had probably only asked him because all his friends were busy, and then they were finishing wiping down the tables and closing the register out and turning all the lights off.

Zuko locked the front door with his spare key. Iroh only stayed open until six at the latest, because, as he put it, “I am far too old to work late shifts, and you are far too young, Zuko,” so the sun was just setting as they set off down the street.

“It’s not far,” Sokka said. He had pulled on a dark blue hoodie and redone his ponytail so it was a little bit higher on his head. “It’ll take like, five minutes to get there.”

“Cool,” Zuko said.

Silence fell.

Zuko tilted his head to look up at the sky, which was painted in brilliant shades of orange and pink, all fading into dark purple. The tea shop was on a quiet enough street that there weren’t any cars passing through at this time of day. Zuko could hear Sokka’s footsteps behind him, his workboots heavy against the sidewalk. 

Sokka turned his face into his elbow and coughed. “So,” he said. “How’s statistics going?”

“Fine,” Zuko said. 

A pause. “Cool,” Sokka said. 

Zuko chewed on his bottom lip. “I don’t really get regression analyses, though,” he blurted out. 

“Oh! Those are a bitch,” Sokka said, sounding sympathetic.

Zuko nodded. “I know it’s not even a hard class, but I can’t figure it out.”

“Statistics is always rough at first,” Sokka said. “It’s like, a whole different language. Once you get the hang of it, though, it’s actually really cool to see how all the numbers work together.” They turned a corner, heading down a marginally busier street. “What did you take in high school?”

“Calc,” Zuko said. “I was pretty decent at it.”

“Ah, that’s what it is,” Sokka said. “I took calc, too, and I was absolute shit. Like I said, different languages. They just come more naturally to some people than others.”

“Huh,” Zuko said, thinking it over. He glanced at Sokka. “You took stats _and_ calculus in high school?”

Sokka seemed to grow an inch taller. “Got A’s in both of them, too,” he said. He grinned at Zuko. “And you thought I was stupid.”

“No I didn’t,” Zuko said. Sokka’s smirk only grew, so Zuko frowned and said, “I’d have to _notice_ you before I could have an opinion on you.”

Sokka blinked. Zuko opened his mouth, mortified, preparing to apologize and leave and probably tell his uncle that that he could never return to the Jasmine Dragon ever again, and-

And then Sokka laughed, tipping his head back to the pink sky overhead.

“Hey, you are funny!” he said, still grinning at Zuko. “I thought Toph was lying.”

Zuko’s heart was pounding. “She probably still is.”

Sokka chuckled and shook his head. “Probably,” he agreed. He stopped in front of a door tucked under a very retro red and white awning and grabbed the handle, pulling it open with a bow and a flourish. “After you.”

Zuko rolled his eyes but passed through, stepping into the diner.

It was a small space, and cute, if a little dingy. The booths were upholstered in a shiny red color and there were vinyls and posters of Elvis plastered around the walls. There was a counter to sit at and, Zuko noted, even a jukebox pushed into the corner. It was all very try-hard 50s nostalgia. 

“C’mon,” Sokka said, coming up behind Zuko and leading the way inside. He walked over to one of the booths in the back corner, right next to the window, and slid into one of the seats. The red plastic squeaked underneath him as he scooted all the way down.

“Best view in the house,” he said as Zuko slipped in across from him.

Zuko looked out the window. “Yeah, that’s a beautiful parking lot.”

“Not the parking lot, smartass,” Sokka said. He twisted in his seat to point, drawing Zuko’s attention across the street to a corner store. “That’s the cabbage guy,” Sokka said, referring to the man standing outside the shop beside a small display of cabbages, tending to his wares vigilantly despite the fading daylight.

“The cabbage guy,” Zuko repeated.

Sokka nodded. “That guy is wild,” he said. “We don’t even know if he works at that store or anything. He just stands out there everyday, trying to sell his cabbages. And he does super weird stuff when he thinks he’s not being watched.” Sokka leaned in towards Zuko, the strands of hair that had escaped from his ponytail falling forward to frame his grin. “A few weeks ago I saw him make out with one of them.”

“What?” Zuko grimaced. “No you didn’t.”

“I totally did,” Sokka said. “Ask Toph, she saw the whole thing.”

Zuko leaned back against his seat, very unimpressed. “Did she really?”

Sokka shrugged. “Worth a shot.” He turned in his seat to smile as the waitress who was approaching them. She was as retroified as her surroundings, in a red skirt and white navy hat perched on her head. “Hiya! Can we get the chocolate cake milkshake and a side of fries? Oh, and ranch.”

“Sure thing,” the woman said, flipping her notepad open to scribble the order down. “Small or large fries?”

“Large. Thanks,” Sokka said.

“Are fries part of the tradition, too?” Zuko asked when the waitress had left.

“No,” Sokka said. “But I didn’t think you’d be opposed.”

“Fair point,” Zuko said. He looked down at the glossy wooden table, twisting his fingers together in his lap. “Sorry that girl ghosted you.”

“Huh? Oh, it’s fine,” Sokka said, waving a hand dismissively. “I wasn’t super invested in it, anyways. I kind of have a thing with someone else.” He glanced at the look on Zuko’s face and immediately held his hands out, eyes widening. “Not like I have a girlfriend, or anything! It’s just- do you remember Suki, from school? Tall, short brown hair, a little scary but in a really hot way?”

“She was on the soccer team, wasn’t she?” Zuko asked, vaguely remembering.

Sokka nodded. “That’s her,” he said. “We had a… thing going in high school. And then we didn’t. And then we did again,” Sokka said, counting the switches on his fingers, “but only for a few months, and then we _definitely_ didn’t. And then we did, but only on weekends-”

“So you were on and off again?” Zuko interrupted when Sokka started to frown to himself.

“Yeah,” Sokka said, looking relieved at having been stopped. “And we’re off right now. Definitely off, have been for over a year now. She goes to school in a different state, so she only comes back on breaks. We talk a couple times a week, but, you know.” Sokka shrugged. “Long-distance sucks.”

“Yeah,” Zuko said, even though he didn’t and would probably never know. “You still like her?”

Sokka frowned. “I dunno,” he said. “I mean, I miss her- she’s one of my best friends, I miss her a ton. I don’t know, I guess I just assumed we would end up together, so it always feels like I’m waiting for us to be on again. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said. He thought suddenly, absurdly, of Mai. In another life, he had no doubt he would have married her. 

In this one, he knew he could never do that to her. 

“What about you?” Sokka asked, pulling Zuko away from dangerous thoughts. “Got anyone special?”

Zuko laughed, just a little. “No,” he said. “Mai and I dated almost all through high school, but we broke up just before graduation. That’s about it for me.”

“Why’d you break up?”

Zuko swallowed down a sting of guilt. “We just weren’t good for each other,” he said. “We’re still close friends, though.”

“Oh, that’s awesome,” Sokka said. “It’s so great when you’re able to be friends with your ex, isn’t it? More people should try it.”

Zuko curled his fists under the table, nails digging into the palm of his hand, and said, “Not all the time.”

Sokka looked at him. “That sounds like a story, pal.”

The waitress got there before Zuko had to respond, dropping off a basket of fries and the largest milkshake Zuko had ever seen. Sokka smiled and thanked her and when he turned back to Zuko, he was all excitement again.

“Okay, this is it,” he said. He picked up one of the straws the waitress left and ripped the paper off, shoving it into the drink, then snatched up the other one to repeat the process. “Isn’t she beautiful?” 

Zuko stared at the drink. It was thick chocolate with ribbons of dark fudge running through it, topped with a generous serving of whipped cream and chocolate flakes. “That looks like it’s going to give me diabetes.”

“It would,” Sokka agreed. “That’s why you’re not allowed to drink it alone! Go on,” he said, pushing it across the table towards Zuko. “Try it!” 

Zuko hesitantly leaned in and sipped at one of the straws. His eyes widened, and he pulled back to say, “Holy shit.”

Sokka was grinning. “I know,” he said. “It tastes exactly like chocolate cake, doesn’t it?”

“That’s crazy,” Zuko said, leaning back and appraising the drink with newfound respect.

“Welcome to the chocolate cake milkshake cult,” Sokka said. He reached across the table to snag the glass and drag it back towards him. “You’ve gotta share, though. Here, have some of the fries. Do you want ranch?”

Zuko wrinkled his nose. “Ew, no,” he said. 

Sokka paused with his mouth halfway to the straw. “Ew to the fries, or the ranch?”

“Ranch,” Zuko said, reaching out to grab a few fries. “That shit’s nasty.”

“Excuse me? Ranch is amazing.”

“Did my uncle know you had such poor taste when he hired you?”

Sokka looked scandalized, and for a moment Zuko thought he had taken it too far until Sokka said, “Okay, heathen, how do you like your fries?”

“Plain.”

Sokka groaned as Zuko popped a fry into his mouth. “Dude,” he said, “don’t do this to me, dude, that’s so depressing.”

“If the fries aren’t good enough to eat on their own, then I don’t want them.”

“You see, that?” Sokka pointed at him. “That’s pretentious, my man. I thought we were done with that.”

“It’s called taste,” Zuko argued.

Sokka scoffed, but his eyes were bright. “Shut up and eat your dry-ass fries.”

They ate for a moment in comfortable silence, trading off the milkshake and eating fries in between. The jukebox was playing an old song that relied heavily on the electric guitarist. When Sokka dipped his fry into the cup of ranch, he caught Zuko’s eye and winked, and Zuko felt himself gradually relaxing into the wrinkled red plastic behind him. This definitely wasn’t as bad as he had assumed it would be. If Zuko sat and really thought about it, he might say that he was even having a good time.

Huh. He’d forgotten what that felt like. 

“I heard Aang forced you into being his friend,” Sokka said when they were reaching the bottom of the milkshake. 

“He didn’t force me into it,” Zuko said. “He was really great about- uh, you know.”

Sokka scraped his straw against the bottom of the glass, trying to get at the whipped cream stuck there. “About the time you pushed him into a river?”

Zuko felt as though someone had slipped an ice cube down his shirt, tracing a cool trail down his spine. He set the fry he had just picked up back into the basket. 

“You remember that?”

“Yeah,” Sokka said. He raised his eyebrows. “That was pretty fucked up, dude.”

“I know,” Zuko said. He stared at the near-empty basket of fries, suddenly regretting all the milkshake he’d just had. It felt heavy in his stomach. “I don’t know why he forgave me.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Zuko glanced at Sokka, expecting to see anger there, or disgust, but finding only a confused kind of curiosity.

“I was a jerk,” Zuko said.

“I’m a jerk too, sometimes,” Sokka said. “But I don’t go around pushing people into rivers.”

Zuko winced. He looked out the window, where it was dark out now. 

“I was trying to impress my sister,” he said. “I know that makes it like, even shittier. I know. But Azula- she had everything, and I thought that if I could make her like me a little more, I could have it too.” He huffed out a laugh. “I was naive.”

“But she’s your sister,” Sokka said, like he couldn’t quite believe what Zuko was saying. “You shouldn’t have to _impress_ her to get her to like you.”

“It’s Azula,” Zuko said. “There’s nothing I can do to get her to like me.” Except die, maybe. Azula might get a chuckle out of that. 

Sokka looked vaguely upset. He licked the whipped cream off of his straw and then dropped it into the empty glass. “That sucks, man.”

Zuko’s eyes widened. “Oh, I wasn’t trying to get pity,” he said. “I take full responsibility for what I did.”

“I know you do,” Sokka said. His face softened into a smile. “Aang made sure we all understood that. And he said that Appa liked you, too, which is a good sign. Appa doesn’t like evil people.” 

Zuko wasn’t sure he trusted Appa’s judgment. “Aang’s a really good guy,” he said, and was surprised to find that he completely meant it. His high school self would be mortified to hear him say that.

 _I don’t care,_ Zuko firmly told that annoying little voice in his head. 

“He is,” Sokka said, smile widening fondly. “We’re lucky to have him.”

The waitress dropped off their check, and Zuko had just started reaching into his pocket for his wallet when Sokka shut him down.

“It’s on me,” he said over Zuko’s protests. “I’m the one who got ghosted and made you keep me company. Besides, I got more tips than you did today.”

“That’s not true,” Zuko said, cheeks burning as the waitress passed by again and took Sokka’s debit card. 

“Maybe not,” Sokka said. “But those old ladies told me I have great bone structure.”

“Felang and Omeph?” Zuko couldn’t help but smile a little. “They do that so you’ll give them the freshest scones.”

Sokke looked scandalized. “This is a betrayal of the highest caliber,” he said, accepting his card back from the waitress. “I’m mixing water into their tea to dilute it the next time they come in.”

It was dark when they stepped outside. They returned the direction they had come, retracing their steps back towards the shop where they would inevitably part ways. 

“Hey,” Sokka said when they had been walking in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Zuko looked at him. His expression was illuminated by the streetlights hanging over them, casting his face in deep yellow. “Thanks for coming with me.”

Zuko shoved his hands into his pockets because he didn’t know what else to do with them. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Sokka nodded. They drew to a stop on the corner across from the tea shop and turned to face each other. The lights overhead buzzed faintly with the tingle of electricity. 

“You know,” Sokka said, “I think we could have been friends in high school.”

Zuko smiled awkwardly. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah, but you had that dorky ponytail, so I don’t think it counts.”

“You have a ponytail,” Zuko said.

“And it’s super dope, you can admit it,” Sokka said. He grinned, all white teeth and perfect jawline, and Zuko swallowed back a wave of _holy shit this guy is hot._ “Whatever. We’re friends now, so I guess it all works out.

Zuko stared at him. “Really?”

“Really,” Sokka said. He looked like he didn’t know what to do next; after a moment he reached out to gently punch Zuko’s arm. “Pal.”

“Ugh,” Zuko said, and now he was smiling, actually smiling for what felt like the first time in years, because he actually believed Sokka. “Never call me that again and we have a deal.”

Sokka laughed. “Deal,” he said. He took a step backwards. “You okay to get home from here?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said. “You work tomorrow morning, right?”

“Hell yeah,” Sokka said. “I’ll see you then, Zuko.”

“See you,” Zuko said. He watched as Sokka turned and walked away, ponytail swinging under the golden light of the streetlamps.

“You were out late, nephew,” Iroh said when he got home ten minutes later. He was sitting in the living room reading a book, and looked as though he’d been waiting for Zuko.

“Yeah,” Zuko said. “I was… hanging out with a friend.”

It should have been embarrassing how proud his uncle looked. Instead, Zuko just tucked that warm feeling away to save for later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen. I don't play favorites. I love all ATLA characters equally.
> 
> But Aang has a very special place in my heart <3
> 
> Thank you all so much for 1000 hits and for all your lovely reviews. They genuinely make my day, and I appreciate everyone who's taken the time to leave a comment or a kudos or just read this fic. Thanks for being here, and I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3


	5. Chapter 5

“Okay, so you mix a little bit of jasmine and chamomile together,” Aang said, and then spread his hands wide. “Jamomile!”

Sokka glanced at Zuko, who had a similarly unimpressed expression on his face. Toph said, “I like it better than chaibos.”

“Tell your uncle I’ve got a ton of ideas,” Aang said, grinning at Zuko.

“It’ll be my number one priority,” Zuko said, making Toph snicker. 

Sokka had been pleasantly surprised at how well Zuko fit into the group dynamic. He and Sokka had been talking a lot more since Sokka had forced Zuko into going to the diner with him a few weeks ago (which had been a tactical stroke of genius on Sokka’s part). Now when their shifts overlapped- which they had been more and more, lately, and Sokka wasn’t naive enough not to know why, he’d seen Iroh’s expression when he’d walked in on Sokka telling Zuko a joke and making him laugh- they were more likely to speak to each other than not. Sometimes it was about statistics or work schedules, the same bland stuff they’d used to skirt around one another before. 

More and more, though, it was about things that were decidedly _not_ bland at all. They reminisced about the parts of high school that weren’t hard to think about, shared teachers and old schoolmates. Zuko was an expert at breaking each one down into a few semi-insulting words. Sokka had lost it the first time Zuko had reflexively referred to their gym teacher as “that sanctimonious tomato.” 

Sokka told Zuko funny stories about Toph and Aang and sometimes Katara, and once Zuko had even very hesitantly told a story from his own childhood. It was about his sister, and Sokka had gathered that she was literally insane, and that Zuko still cared very deeply about her. He had looked pleasantly surprised when Sokka showed interest in hearing his story. 

It was all still very surface level, but it was a vast improvement from where they had been before.

Despite how well he and Zuko got along on their own, however, Sokka hadn’t expected him to be able to handle all of them together at the same time. Aang and Toph were each a force to reckon with on their own, and when they were together the energy was sometimes too much even for Sokka. 

Somehow, Zuko dealt with it with a grace that impressed Sokka.

“You should also tell your uncle to start serving hot chocolate,” Aang said.

“I might ask him to replace Sokka with you,” Zuko said, looking at Sokka with a small smile. “You’ve got much better ideas.”

Sokka feigned a glare. “I’m the best thing that ever happened to this tea shop.”

“More like the _lamest_ thing,” Toph said, and raised her hand to Zuko for a high five. 

“I regret ever introducing you two,” Sokka moaned as their palms slapped together. 

“You didn’t introduce us,” Toph said. “I found Zuko first.” 

“And Appa and I found him third and fourth,” Aang said.

“Yes, yes, you’re both Zuko’s number one fan, I get it,” Sokka said, half because it was true, and half because he liked seeing the way the other boy’s cheeks went instantly red.

Toph perked up. “Hey, there can’t be two number one fans,” she said. She pointed at Aang, the jewel dangling from her wrist cuff bouncing wildly. “Square up, Twinkletoes, it’s time for a death match.”

Aang was spared from the battle by his phone, which was playing some kind of aggressive harp music to signal an incoming call. Aang pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen, and Sokka could tell who it was from the way his face lit up.

“Hey,” Aang said, answering the call and pressing it to his ear. “Did you get my- oh, you are? I- huh?” Aang lowered the phone slightly so he wasn’t speaking into it and glanced at Sokka. “It’s Katara,” he said. “She’s, uh, here to pick me up?”

“For what?” Toph asked. Aang shrugged, and Sokka groaned.

“This is ridiculous,” he said. He leaned across the table to snag Aang’s phone from his hand and press it to his ear. “Katara, just come inside!”

“I’m here to get Aang,” his sister said. 

“For what?”

“We have a thing to go to.” 

Sokka could feel Zuko staring at him, and did his best to ignore him. “No, you don’t. Stop being a baby and come hang out with us.”

He ended the call. “Sokka,” Aang said, looking distressed as he accepted his phone back, “did you hang up on her?”

“It’s a challenge. Now she has to come.”

“Is everything alright?” Zuko asked, glancing between Sokka and Aang with a furrowed brow.

“Ah,” Sokka said. “Don’t worry about it, Gloomy Gus.”

Zuko frowned and looked like he was about to comment on the nickname, but before he could the bell over the front door rattled. Sokka looked up to see his sister standing there, hair pulled back in a tight, sharp braid, scowl fixed firmly on her face.

“This’ll be good,” said Toph as Katara stomped across the room towards them.

“Hi Katara!” Aang shot out of his seat, standing awkwardly to wait as she approached.

Katara’s eyes were fixed on Zuko, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable with the tension that had suddenly fallen on the group.

“Hey Katara,” Sokka said. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

Katara dragged her gaze away from Zuko long enough to scowl at Sokka. “I’ve been busy.”

Sokka raised his eyebrows and gestured to the empty seat at their table. “Glad you made time for us.”

Katara dropped neatly into the seat. Aang scrambled to sit back down beside her, cheeks bright pink. 

“Zuko, you remember my sister, Katara,” Sokka said.

Zuko raised his hand in a small wave. “Hi.”

Katara gazed at him for a long moment, and then turned away. Sokka narrowed his eyes, feeling a sudden swell of anger in his chest. He knew his sister could be stubborn, but this was getting annoying. 

“Do you want some tea, Katara?” Aang asked, leaning forward to pick up the teapot in the middle of the table. “It’s jasmine!”

“I don’t like tea,” said Katara.

“You don’t like anything,” said Sokka.

Katara’s mouth thinned. 

“We’ve got muffins, too!” Aang said, smiling hopefully.

Toph shook her head. “Give it a rest, melon-head,” she muttered.

A chair scraped against the wooden floor. They all looked at Zuko, who was slowly rising out of his chair. “I’m going to, um,” he said. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Go back to the kitchen.”

“Don’t go, Zuko,” said Sokka, worried that he had been upset.

“Yeah, Zuko,” Katara said. Her voice was dripping with fake sincerity. “Don’t go!”

Zuko ducked his head. “Uncle asked me to get a few things done,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’ll, um, see you all later.”

“Bye, dork,” Toph said as Zuko turned and walked quickly away.

As soon as he had disappeared behind the curtain Sokka whirled in his seat to snap at Katara, “Get a grip.”

“You’re telling _me_ to get a grip?” Katara had the nerve to look offended. “I’m not the one fraternizing with the enemy.”

“He’s not the enemy, Katara!” Sokka knew that he was raising his voice, but the tea shop was empty except for them and Jinpa and Fung playing Pai Sho in the corner, and nothing would distract them from their game. “We’re not in high school anymore, you need to let it go!”

“Don’t tell me what to do! Do you remember what that asshole said about mom?”

“Of course I do! He already apologized for it!”

“Not to me,” Katara said, sniffing haughtily.

“You haven’t given him the chance!” Sokka shouted. “You’re determined to see him as the bad guy and nothing else!”

“That’s what he is!” Katara said, easily matching Sokka in volume. 

“Guys,” Aang said, sounding nervous. 

“Shut up, Aang!” Katara and Sokka shouted at the same time, and then glared at each other.

“You know what,” Sokka said, “I don’t really want to deal with this at work. You need to leave, Katara.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” Sokka said. “If you’re just going to get angry, go.” 

“You’re choosing him over me?” 

Sokka threw his arms out wide. “I’m not choosing anyone!” he exclaimed. “I’m just trying to do my fucking job!”

“Fine!” Katara stood up, slamming her hands down hard enough on the table the teapots and cups rattled. “I didn’t want to come, anyways!”

“Fine!”

“Fine! Ugh!” Katara spun on her heel and strode away. She yanked open the front door hard enough to make the bells clatter, then slammed it shut behind her.

“Hey,” called a voice behind them, and Sokka turned to find both Jinpa and Fung glaring at them from across the room. “Can’t you kids keep it down?”

Sokka winced. “Sorry, Jinpa!”

“Hey, guys?” Toph said. She was slouched in her seat, and her mouth was twisted into a frown. “The sugar plum fairy is really starting to piss me off.”

“She just doesn’t get it,” Aang said. 

“No, she’s just trying to be a brat,” Toph said.

“No she isn’t!”

“Oh, sorry, is this her way of being welcoming and hospitable?”

Sokka, who had been staring at the kitchen curtain, stood up and said, “I’m going to go check on Zuko.”

“Not a good idea, meathead!” Toph called as Sokka walked away.

Sokka reached the curtain determined to go in, but jumped back when it was yanked away. It was Zuko. He had changed out of his apron and was carrying his backpack, and looked as startled as Sokka was.

“Zuko!” Sokka said. “Where are you going?”

Zuko tilted his head forward, letting his hair fall into his eyes. “My shift’s over,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

He pushed past Sokka, brushing against his arm. Sokka stayed frozen for a moment, staring at the green curtain. Then he turned and said, “Zuko, wait!”

Zuko picked up his pace without looking back at Sokka. A moment later he was gone, bell tinkling gently behind him.

Sokka let his head hang as he walked back to the table. Aang was chewing on his lip uncomfortably; Toph just looked annoyed.

“Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?” she asked, crossing her arms and scowling.

Sokka dropped back into his seat. This wasn’t fair. He hated fighting with his sister, but Zuko was his friend now, and he had also hated the expression on his face as he’d left. 

“Can this day get any worse?” he said.

“Sokka,” Jinpa’s voice called from behind him, carrying throughout the shop. “Get us more oolong!” 

“You really need to stop testing the universe like that,” Aang said as Sokka tipped his head back and groaned. 

X X X X X

Sokka tightened his coat around himself, tilting his head down to protect his face from the chill in the air. It wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet, but winter seemed to come earlier and earlier every year. Soon he’d have to start pulling out his winter clothes, which was never a chore that he looked forward to.

It was early in the morning, far earlier than Sokka was used to being up. It had been a pain to get out of bed, and he was dragging his feet as he followed the familiar path to the Jasmine Dragon. When he spotted Starbucks gleaming in the distance, he was sorely tempted to stop and caffeinate himself, but he sighed and pressed on. 

Sokka wasn’t scheduled to work until the afternoon, but he hadn’t been able to get what had happened yesterday out of his head. Katara was a lost cause; she had ignored all of his calls, and Aang had very uncomfortably suggested that Sokka stop trying to talk to her for his own sanity. 

So it was going to be one of those fights. Fine, Sokka knew how to play the long game, too. 

If possible, though, Sokka felt even worse about Zuko. If Sokka had learned anything about him over the past few weeks it was that Zuko knew how to internalize shit better than anyone Sokka had ever met. Sokka needed to reassure him that Katara just knew how to keep a nasty grudge and that it wasn’t anything personal.

Okay, maybe it was a little personal, but still.

The sign in the shop’s front door was flipped to closed, but all of the lights were on. Sokka tried the doorhandle and was relieved when it opened with no issues.

The bell tinkled overhead as Sokka slipped inside. He had expected Zuko to be out front washing tables or stocking the pastry case. There was no sign of anyone else in the space, however, except for the faint sound of music coming from the kitchen, which was definitely new.

Sokka tilted his head to the side as he crossed the room, frowning curiously, then hesitated at the curtain. What if Iroh was back there doing something weird that Sokka didn’t want to see? He didn’t want to even think about the things that would require that kind of melodramatic music.

Sokka took a deep breath before shoving his head through the curtains to peek inside.

He froze.

The Jasmine Dragon just served tea and pre-made pastries, so there’d never been reason to use any part of the kitchen other than the stove to boil water. Now, though, there were ingredients strewn across every inch of the counterspace- bags of flour, sugar, bowls of bright red berry filling. 

Sokka stared at it all for a moment, so overwhelmed that it took him a few seconds to realize that someone was _singing along to this monstrosity._

“Are you listening to opera?” he asked, making Zuko’s shoulders jump up in surprise.

“Sokka?” Zuko spun around, slamming the oven door shut. He had his hair tied up in a topknot to keep out of his face, which had gone an impressive shade of red. “What are you doing here? You don’t open!”

Sokka walked fully into the kitchen, letting the curtain swing closed behind him. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. He twirled his finger in the air and raised an eyebrow at Zuko. “The screaming?”

Zuko scrambled in his pocket for his phone, and a second later the music abruptly cut off. “It’s not screaming,” Zuko said with a scowl. Once, Sokka would have gotten angry at it. Now the expression just made him want to laugh, because of course Zuko would get defensive over _opera_. “It’s Pagliacci.”

“Bless you.” Sokka crossed his arms and looked again at all the supplies out on the counter. “Are you baking?”

“No,” said Zuko.

Sokka pursed his lips and pointed. “You’re wearing an apron.”

Zuko looked down at the apron, which was white with the words “Caution: Hot Dad” written on it.

“It was Uncle’s,” Zuko said, now the color of a tomato. 

Sokka walked closer to the counter to look at the wire racks that had been set out. They were all filled with the mini cherry tarts they served at the shop, some of which were still steaming, as though they’d just come out of the oven.

Sokka blinked and said, “You’re baking the pastries.”

“Well, yeah,” Zuko said. “Someone has to.” 

“I thought that we bought them.”

Zuko frowned. “No,” he said. “Uncle would never serve something he’d purchased somewhere else.” 

The tarts smelled warm and buttery, and Sokka was really regretting having eaten breakfast this morning. “Do you always make them?”

“Uncle manages when I’m not around,” Zuko said. He grabbed a green oven mitt off the counter and slipped it on, walking back to the oven. “But usually, yes.” 

“I didn’t know you had so many hidden talents,” Sokka said.

Zuko grabbed a tray of tarts out of the oven. “Baking?” he asked, closing it again and carrying them over to the counter. “I wasn’t really trying to hide it.”

Sokka grinned. “What about the opera singing?” 

The tray clattered against the metal countertop as Zuko fumbled with it. He looked up to glare at Sokka, but it was somewhat mitigated by the streak of flour on his temple.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Sokka said. He pushed aside a box of baking powder to clear enough space on the counter to jump up and sit. Zuko looked exasperated, but didn’t say anything, which Sokka considered a win. 

“So you came to work four hours early?” 

Sokka shrugged. “Yeah.” 

Zuko pulled off the oven mitt and tossed it on the counter. He picked up a spatula. “What is it, then?” His voice was terse, but Sokka knew him well enough by now to pick up the thread of nerves running through it.

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

“Huh?”

“For my sister,” Sokka said. “She was rude, and Toph pointed out that you could probably hear everything we said from the kitchen. That was my bad.”

Zuko lifted a tart off of the tray with the spatula and then carefully transferred it to the last empty wire rack. His eyes were down, fixed on his work. “It’s okay,” Zuko said. “She isn’t wrong.”

Sokka stared at him. “Zuko, what? Of course she is!”

“I wasn’t a good person in high school,” Zuko said, picking up another tart. “I haven’t proven that I can be forgiven for that.”

“Yes you have, Zuko,” Sokka said, leaning earnestly towards him. “I wouldn’t be your friend if you couldn’t be forgiven, would I?”

That made Zuko pause for a moment, but he still didn’t look at Sokka. “Your sister-”

“Holds grudges like no one else,” Sokka said. “One time my dad took us fishing, and I caught one and Katara didn’t, and she didn’t speak to me for a week.”

Another tart slid onto the wire rack. “I’m still not someone she wants around,” Zuko said. Sokka hated how calm he was being. How could he be calm when all Sokka wanted to do was yell? “I can understand that.”

Sokka gripped the edges of the counter. “Hey Zuko? Hey, that’s really dumb, buddy.”

Zuko set the spatula down and finally looked up at Sokka. He was scowling again. This time, Sokka was less amused by it. “Don’t call me dumb.”

“I’m not calling you dumb. I’m calling what you _said_ dumb. What do you mean, you can understand that?”

“I mean that I know I’m not a pleasant person to be around.”

“See, that?” Sokka pointed at him. “That’s dumb!”

“Sokka-”

“No, Zuko, just- can you just shut up and let me talk without interrupting with your stupid self-deprecation for once? Listen, I know you were an asshole in high school, we all know that, we get it. Yeah, you were kind of shitty. Okay. You apologized. You’ve changed- don’t make that face, you have,” Sokka snapped when Zuko’s frown deepened. “We’re friends now, and I don’t let my friends say dumb stuff about themselves.”

“You’ve forgiven me, but that doesn’t mean your sister has to.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Sokka said, “but that doesn’t give her the right to be mean to you. You don’t deserve that, Zuko.” 

Zuko turned his head away, hiding his scar from view. With his hair tied up out of his face, Sokka could clearly see the sharp line of his jaw and his pale skin, which was unblemished in a way Sokka could never achieve. Zuko, Sokka realized with a start, was very attractive. 

“Don’t I?” Zuko asked.

Sokka slid off the counter, landing hard on the ground. He stepped closer to Zuko, close enough that if he wanted he could reach out and wipe the flour off of his face. 

“No,” Sokka said. “You don’t.” 

Zuko’s lips pressed together tightly. He still wasn’t looking at Sokka. Sokka listened to the sound of his breathing, steady and loud.

After a moment, Zuko reached out to grab a cherry tart off the rack. Sokka watched as he broke it neatly in half, getting flaky crumbs all over his hand.

“I always taste test them before I put them out,” Zuko said, holding one half out to Sokka.

Sokka took it, twisting to lean back against the counter. Zuko followed suit, pressing in close enough that their shoulders touched. Sokka raised the tart, feeling his elbow knock against Zuko’s, and took a bite.

“God damn,” he said through a mouthful of pastry. Sokka swallowed, savoring the sweetness on his tongue. “These are my favorite, you know.”

Zuko hadn’t touched his own piece. “I know,” he said. 

Sokka glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Zuko was a little taller than him, but when he was slouched over like this it didn’t seem like it. 

“Katara will come around,” Sokka said. “Until then, you’ve got me and Aang and Toph in your corner. You’re not alone, Zuko.” 

Sokka finished off his tart while Zuko stood in silence, staring down at his feet. His arm felt warm against Sokka’s, a pleasant, comfortable pressure.

“Thank you, Sokka,” he finally said, his voice quiet. “That means a lot.”

Sokka bumped Zuko’s elbow with his. “Sure thing, opera nerd,” he said. “Hey, do you need me to taste test the rest of the tarts, too?”

Zuko’s laugh was deep and raspy, and Sokka didn’t think he’d ever get tired of it. 

X X X X X

Sokka was exhausted when he returned home from work that day. He’d spent the rest of his morning hanging out at the shop with Zuko, only leaving to sneak over to Starbucks to get them both coffees when Iroh hadn’t been paying attention. And then he’d had his own shift, which wasn’t bad because he’d had more time to talk to Zuko, but it was still a really long time to be working in a tea shop. Plus, once Zuko had gone home for the day it had gotten significantly less interesting.

Sokka unlocked his front door and slipped inside the apartment, toeing his shoes off. The lights were on, and when he sniffed the air he smelled the distinct scent of simmering bone broth. 

Sokka edged forward into the living room, hand creeping to his pocket to pull out his phone. “Who’s in my kitchen?” he called cautiously, trying to figure out exactly long he’d have to hold off an attacker before backup could get to him.

A familiar head poked out of the doorway, and Sokka sighed in relief, shoulders slumping forward.

“Katara,” he said, “you gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“Oh, sorry!”

Sokka shrugged out of his coat and dropped it on the ground next to his shoes. “What are you doing here?”

“I made five flavor soup,” Katara said, stepping out of the kitchen to hold up two bowls. Sokka groaned and walked over to the couch, falling back against it.

“Do we have to do this right now?” he asked. When Katara just smiled hopefully, he sighed and said, “Alright, give me the soup.”

He sat up to make space for Katara to join him as he accepted his warm bowl. He raised it, taking a moment to just sniff it. It smelled heady and spicy, and slammed Sokka with a wave of nostalgia so strong he felt his stomach twist. 

He took a sip and closed his eyes, letting the flavor settle on his tongue. The broth was so hot it felt as though it was warming Sokka from the inside, melting any chill he’d brought with him from his walk home.

“It tastes just like Mom’s,” he said.

Katara sipped at her own soup. “She taught me.” 

Sokka lowered his bowl again. He stared down into the cloudy broth, watching the flecks of seaweed swirl on the surface. 

When Katara spoke again, her voice was soft. “I’m sorry, Sokka.”

“Really.” 

“Yes,” Katara said. “I hate fighting with you.”

“I do, too.” God, Sokka hated fighting with her. Sure, she was his younger sister and was totally annoying by definition, but it was rare that they ever went more than a couple of days without seeing each other, and Sokka had felt her absence like a physical ache. 

“And I know I was a little too harsh on Zuko.”

Sokka snorted. “A little?”

Katara pursed her lips. “Aang already talked to me about it,” she said. She sighed, hugging the bowl in close to her chest. “I know he’s your- your friend, Sokka, and I know Aang and Toph like him, too,” she said. “I really, really wish I could just forgive him, but every time I look at him all I can think about is how miserable Aang was when people made fun of him for falling in the river, or how angry Toph was when Zuko’s sister kept tripping her, or- or how _sad_ you were when he made fun of Mom.” 

“Katara,” Sokka said, his heart sinking in his chest, but it was impossible to interrupt Katara when she was on a roll.

“And I know you all say that he’s changed, and I know I haven’t really been fair or given him a chance, but I just don’t trust him, Sokka,” Katara said. “I can’t be sure that he isn’t going to do something to hurt you or anyone else I love again.”

Sokka cupped his hands around his bowl, letting the warmth sink into his palms. “I understand, Katara,” he said quietly. “I really do. When I first started working with him, I didn’t trust him at all, and I didn’t think I ever could.”

“You trust him now, though,” Katara said.

Sokka nodded. “He’s different,” he said. “He really, really is. He’s- he’s thoughtful, and he’s got a really good sense of humor, and- and sometimes he opens and closes the shop on the same day just so his uncle can get more sleep. He’s a good guy, Katara. And I think you would really like him if you gave him the chance.”

Katara fell silent. When Sokka looked at her, she was staring at Sokka, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“What?” Sokka asked, defensive.

Katara’s expression smoothed. “Nothing,” she said. She leaned over to set her bowl of soup on the coffee table, then turned to Sokka and said, “I can’t promise that I’ll ever trust him, Sokka. But I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

“Then you should apologize to Zuko.”

Katara nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll apologize to Zuko.” 

Sokka leaned forward to put his bowl down next to Katara’s and opened his arms wide. “C’mere, baby sis,” he said, and Katara rolled her eyes but leaned into Sokka’s hug, letting him wrap his arms around her. Sokka pressed his face into the warm fabric of Katara’s sweater, breathing in her floral perfume, and felt something that had been tensed in his chest for the past few weeks relax.

“Now please tell me you made something other than soup,” he said when they finally pulled apart. “Because I’m starving.”

Katara laughed and stood up, holding out a hand to pull Sokka to his feet. “I’ll whip something up for us,” she said. “Do you have tofu?”

Sokka pulled a face. “You’ve been hanging out with Aang too much.”

The flush that spread across her face was worth the smack to the arm he got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know Katara is holding a grudge, but I promise that I do love her and it won't be forever!
> 
> Thanks for your continued support on this story. I'm truly blown away with the response I get every time I post a chapter. So thank you, thank you <3


	6. Chapter 6

“Zuko, it has not steeped long enough,” Iroh said when Zuko tried to put the teapot on the tray.

Zuko put down the lid he’d been trying to slip over it. “I’ve got to get Ms. Wang’s tea to her,” he said, even though he knew it was pointless trying to argue with his uncle over tea.

“A watched leaf never steeps, Zuko.”

“That’s not a real saying.”

Iroh shrugged. “It was worth a shot,” he said. He flapped his hand at Zuko, shooing him away from the teapot. “I will finish this up and personally deliver it to Ms. Wang with an apology for making her wait. She is a very kind woman; she will understand. Go, a young lady just sat down at table four and I’m sure she is expecting some of your famous customer service.”

Zuko rolled his eyes as he turned away. As he slipped through the curtain back into the front of the shop, he wished, not for the first time, that Sokka was here and wasn’t scheduled to close later on. In true Uncle Iroh fashion, he’d taken Sokka from someone he’d hired to just wash dishes and turned him into another pseudo-waiter, teaching him techniques for brewing tea and giving him detailed descriptions of each of their regulars so he knew which orders to anticipate when they came in. It made waiting tables a lot easier for Zuko. 

Today was Friday, and their afternoon tea rush was as busy as it had ever been, but Sokka wasn’t scheduled until later, which meant Zuko and Iroh had to handle it by themselves. It wasn’t really a problem; they had worked alone for a long time. Zuko was just spoiled with the help Sokka provided.

Zuko reached back to tighten his apron as he walked, sparing patient smiles for customers who greeted him as he passed. Every table was full of people, some regulars, some Zuko didn’t recognize. The shop was loud with conversation and the harp music his uncle was playing over the speakers today.

Zuko approached a dark-haired woman, who was sitting with her back to Zuko. She must have just come in, because Zuko hadn’t seen her arrive. 

“Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon,” he said, drawing up alongside her table. “What can I- uh.” 

She turned, and Zuko found himself staring at someone who looked a lot like Sokka if Sokka was a girl and also really, really hated Zuko. 

Zuko swallowed. “Uh,” he repeated. “I’m so sorry, but Sokka isn’t here yet.”

Katara’s lips were pressed into a small frown. She was wearing her hair down today, with small loops in the front tied back with blue clips. “I know,” she said. 

Great. As if Zuko couldn’t feel anymore anxious.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Katara continued. She glanced around at the rest of the shop. “I think I came at the wrong time, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Zuko said. A small crowd had gathered around the Pai Sho table in the corner, and something must have happened because they all gave a sudden cheer that made Zuko tense up. He wasn’t stupid enough not to know what Katara was here to tell him, and as much as Zuko wanted to go back and hide in the kitchen, Katara deserved the chance to speak her mind. “I think I’m due for a break in a few minutes, though. I just have to go check with my uncle.”

“Okay,” Katara said.

Zuko started to back away, then paused and said, “Do you- do you want something? I can get you something. Tea?”

Katara reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her wrist was heavy with woven bracelets in different shades of blue. “I don’t know very much about tea.”

“Our house special is jasmine,” Zuko said. “It’s, um, very popular.”

Katara still hadn’t done anything except frown at Zuko, which was beginning to make him nervous. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll take jasmine tea.”

Zuko dipped his head in a nod. “Okay, I’ll just- I’m going to go get that for you, then.”

Zuko had too much pride left to run back to the kitchen, but he cut it very close. His uncle was finishing setting up Ms. Wang’s tray, and looked up at Zuko when he slunk back into the kitchen.

“Are you alright, nephew?” he asked as Zuko snatched up a fresh teapot and put it down too hard on the countertop.

“I’m fine,” Zuko said. He grabbed the box of jasmine tea leaves off the shelf. “Everyone’s tea has been served. Would you mind if I took a quick break after this?”

Iroh paused, but he just looked faintly puzzled, not upset. “Of course, Zuko,” he said. “Take all the time that you need.”

As soon as his uncle had gone, Zuko braced his hands against the counter and let his head hang. He took several long, slow breaths while the water heated up on the stove. 

Zuko felt vaguely nauseous, like when he ate too many of his own pastries then tried to do tai chi with his uncle. He knew exactly what Katara wanted to say to him. He knew that she hated him and didn’t like that he was hanging around her brother and friends so much. She would tell him that he had to stay away from them all, and Zuko would listen and obey, because after everything he’d done to her it was the least he could do.

Zuko spooned leaves into the strainer with shaky hands. He clenched his jaw as he picked up the kettle and went to slowly pour the boiling water over the leaves. He kept one hand braced against the teapot, relishing the sting of the heat on his fingers as it filled with water. 

Zuko knew it was for the best, but his throat tightened uncomfortably every time he thought about having to stay away from Sokka and Toph and Aang. As much as Zuko had tried to keep them at a distance, he’d grown unfortunately comfortable with the tentative friendship between them all. He liked working with Sokka and being able to actually speak to him. He liked when Toph stopped by just to punch his arm and make fun of his hair, and he liked how Aang laughed like Zuko had actually said something funny.

He shouldn’t have gotten used to having them around.

The tea wasn’t fully steeped when Zuko loaded it all onto the tray with two clean cups. He picked it up, fingers curling around the silver edges of the tray, and took a moment to brace himself before slipping back through the curtain.

He paused for just a moment at the counter, balancing the tray with one hand so he could reach in and grab the last tart in the case, sliding it onto a plate. He put the plate down beside the teapot as he walked, dread growing in his stomach as he approached Katara.

She was reading something on her phone when Zuko placed the tray carefully in the center of the table. She looked up and watched as Zuko set a cup in front of her and picked up the teapot. 

“I, uh,” he said as he poured her tea, eyes fixed carefully on the steam rising from the cup. “I got you a tart, too. Our last one. On the house. Obviously. Sokka likes them, so I thought-” Zuko shifted to his own cup, splashing a small amount of tea in and then setting the teapot back down on the tray with a _clank_. “Do you want sugar, or milk, or-”

“This is fine,” Katara said.

Zuko nodded. He sat down across from her, grabbing his teacup and clutching it close to provide some modicum of comfort.

Katara stared him down. Her eyes were the same vibrant blue as Sokka’s, but had a steely glint in them that Sokka’s lacked.

“I don’t like you,” she said.

“I know.”

“You were awful to us,” Katara said, “and I don’t understand how the others have forgiven you so easily.”

Zuko dropped his gaze. He got the feeling that Katara really didn’t want to hear his responses, and he didn’t have any way to defend himself, either, so he bit his tongue and let her speak.

“You were hot-headed and rude and cruel. I’m sorry if I can’t quite believe that someone can change from that.”

“You’re right,” Zuko said. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and, stupidly, felt pressure building behind his eyes. He blinked it away. “My behavior was inexcusable, and I’m really-”

“Let me finish,” Katara said, raising one cool eyebrow. When Zuko fell silent, she said, “While I don’t trust you, I do trust the opinions of my brother and my friends. They’ve decided to buy into this transformation of yours, and for some reason they like you. So I’m going to give you one chance.” She held up a single finger, narrowing her eyes at Zuko. “Just one. The second you mess up or put one toe out of line, I promise I will make you pay for not only that, but for _all_ the shit you pulled in high school. Understood?”

Zuko stared at her for a moment, trying to process the fact that she wasn’t telling him to back off and never speak to Sokka ever again. Then he quickly bowed his head forward, so quickly he almost knocked his forehead into his teacup. 

“I do,” he said. He lifted his head to meet her gaze. “I’m truly, deeply sorry for everything I said and did in high school. I swear to never behave like that towards you or anyone else again.”

Katara pushed her teacup away. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Zuko.” She stood up, grabbing the blue purse she’d hung over the back of her chair. “Where do I pay?”

Zuko shook his head, jumping to his feet as well. “It’s fine.”

“Thanks,” said Katara. She glanced at the uneaten tart in the center of the table. “You should save that for Sokka,” she said. “He’ll appreciate it.”

“Oh,” Zuko said. “Alright.”

Katara looked at him for a moment. "Bye, Zuko,” she said, turning away. “I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” Zuko said, raising one hand at her retreating back. He watched her weave between the crowded tables and reach the front door, slipping out with a gentle tinkle of the bells.

Zuko turned back to face the now-empty table. After a moment he gathered their cups, stacking everything back on the tray to carry into the kitchen. 

“Welcome back, Zuko,” Iroh said when Zuko stepped back into the kitchen. “Did you have an enjoyable break?” 

Zuko nodded, taking the plated tart and setting it aside on the counter to drop the dishes off in the sink. When he returned, Iroh raised his eyebrows at him, expression faintly amused.

“If you’re hungry, nephew, you don’t have to ration the tarts,” he said, removing the kettle from the stove when it started to whistle.

Zuko felt warmth blossom in his cheeks. “I’m not,” he said. “It’s for Sokka. They’re his favorite.”

Iroh nodded. He poured water over the tea leaves in the pot with a steady hand. “I was wondering why you made them two days in a row,” he said. When he turned to grin at Zuko, his eyes were bright. “I’m glad he enjoys your baking.”

Zuko wished the floor would open wide and swallow him up. He dropped his head and muttered something about checking on the customers, and hastened out of the kitchen before his uncle could do anything more than chuckle.

X X X X X

Growing up, Mai had always enjoyed walking, but she set very specific standards for who was allowed to accompany her. Ty Lee always went too fast for her preferred pace, and Azula never bothered to go anywhere unless she had a destination in mind, so the job of keeping her company had fallen on Zuko. They had spent most of the early parts of their relationship side by side, wandering through the streets and parks together. Sometimes they talked, and sometimes they didn’t; if there was one thing that Zuko appreciated about Mai, it was that she understood the need to sometimes just sit with silence.

When she asked him to meet her in front of their old high school, he went without asking any questions. 

He found her sitting on a bench in the shade of a tall oak tree near the front of the building. She had dressed well for the weather, in pressed black trousers and a thick black turtleneck. She lifted her head as Zuko approached her, dark bangs falling out of her eyes.

She stood up and nodded her head towards the sidewalk. They walked together, falling in step easily. It was overcast overhead, grey and gloomy- Mai’s favorite weather. She had always hated being out in the sun.

They walked in silence for a block, tracing the perimeter of the brick building they had gone to school at for four years. It was empty this late in the day, and eerily quiet. It made Zuko’s stomach turn when he looked at it.

“You look good,” Mai said, fingers locked behind her back. “Happier.” 

“Thanks,” Zuko said, surprised by the compliment.

Mai looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Her eyeliner was winged out farther than usual today, making her gaze sharper. “What’s changed?”

They turned the corner, following the fence that enclosed the soccer field. “I think,” Zuko said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat, “that I’ve made some friends.”

“How mundane,” Mai said. A breeze blew past, tugging her hair back from her face. “Do I know them?”

“Maybe,” Zuko said. He glanced across the field to the windows of the gymnasium. He half expected the back doors to open and a younger Sokka to emerge, dressed in the dorky gym clothes they had all been forced into. Zuko hadn’t paid attention to the other boy in high school, but if he thought back hard enough he could remember bits and pieces of half-formed opinions Zuko had held of him. Sokka had played several different sports, and Zuko had always envied his athletic ability. “Do you remember those kids in high school we, uh, weren’t the nicest to? They hung out with Aang. The bald kid,” Zuko said when Mai continued to look unmoved.

That got some recognition from her. “Ah,” she said. “The blind girl and the one with the dorky braid.”

“Toph and Katara.”

“Whatever,” Mai said. 

“Uncle hired Katara’s brother Sokka at the Jasmine Dragon,” Zuko said. “I see him a lot. All of them. They’re not that bad, actually.” 

Mai sighed. “You always did have a thing for poetic irony.” 

They continued walking, turning to come around the other side of the building. Mai’s elbow brushed against Zuko’s. 

“How have you been?” Zuko asked.

“Fine,” Mai said. She turned her head away. “I’m seeing someone.”

Zuko tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.

“Oh,” he said when he’d straightened up again. “Cool. Who?”

“Azula introduced us,” Mai said. She tilted her head just enough for Zuko to see a faint smile on her lips. “Don’t worry, he’s nothing like her.”

“That’s great, Mai,” Zuko said. “I’m happy for you.” 

“Thanks,” Mai said. “You know, you’re lucky I’m breaking it to you personally. Azula thought it would make you miserable, so she wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Typical,” Zuko said. Instead of the pang of anger he normally felt when he thought of his sister, instead he felt a deep, dull sadness. 

He felt Mai hesitate beside him. “She asks about you, you know.”

“I don’t care,” said Zuko.

As they passed under another tall oak tree, Mai tilted her head back to look at canopy. “Yes, you do,” she said.

Zuko looked away. A car drove past them, fast enough that a piece of crumpled paper lying on the ground was lifted momentarily into the air by the wind. 

“What about you?” Mai asked. “Got anyone special?”

Zuko snorted. “After my last relationship ended so poorly? I don’t think so.” 

He tried to say it lightly, but Mai sighed. “Please don’t tell me you’re still caught up on that.”

“I hurt you, Mai.”

“And then I forgave you for it.” Mai sounded annoyed. “I’ve told you before, it’s not like I didn’t see it coming.”

Zuko ducked his head down and glared at his feet, feeling his chest tighten

“Zuko,” Mai said. “You know, it’s okay if there is someone.”

Zuko shook his head. “There can’t be,” he said, “not if I’m going to prove myself to my father.”

“So your plan is to just… ignore it?”

“If I have to.” 

It took him a second to realize that Mai had stopped walking. Zuko turned around to look at her, fists clenched tight at his side.

Mai walked forward until she was standing right in front of him. She reached for one of his hands with both of her own, easing her thumb against his palm so he was forced to uncurl his fingers. 

“Zuko,” Mai said. She slipped her fingers between his and squeezed. “If your plan was to just ignore it, why didn’t you just keep dating me?” 

“I couldn’t do that to you, Mai,” he said, horrified at the very thought. “You deserve to be with someone who can actually make you happy.”

Mai tilted her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes were pale gold amidst the dark of her hair and clothes. 

“Don’t you deserve that, too?” she asked.

Zuko dropped her hand and stepped back. His heart was pounding. “I can’t,” he said. “You know I can’t. Why are you asking about this?”

“Zuko-”

“What, are you- did Azula ask you to report back her or something?” As soon as Zuko said it, he regretted it, clamping his teeth down hard on the rest of the panicked words building in his throat. 

Mai’s expression shifted from concerned to insulted in the space of a second. “Excuse me?” she asked. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. “When have I _ever_ sold you out to Azula? If I wanted to I could have done that a _long_ time ago, and we both know it.”

Zuko’s breath came out shaky. “Mai-”

“No, Zuko,” Mai said. “You are so determined to believe that the entire world is against you that you refuse to see when people are trying to help you.” She took a step back from him, mouth pressed into a flat frown. “Whatever. I have to go.” 

“Mai,” Zuko said again, and why did he _always_ do this, how did he always fuck up in the worst way possible? “Mai, I didn’t mean-“ 

“You never do,” Mai said. She still wouldn’t look at him. “It was good to see you, Zuko. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Mai,” Zuko said, but he knew there was no stopping Mai when she decided on something. He stood there and watched as she turned around and walked away, sharp heels clicking against the sidewalk as she left. 

When she was gone, Zuko dropped his head to stare at the ground. A brisk chill swept past him, sending a shiver down his spine. 

He went the long way home, unable to stomach walking past the school again. 

X X X X X

Zuko tapped his pencil against the piece of scratch paper he was working off of, frowning at the example problem displayed on his screen. He dragged his fingers through his hair, tugging so hard it hurt his scalp.

“Fuck,” he said out loud. Despite the help that Sokka had been giving him, statistics was still eluding him. He had an exam tomorrow and he’d been studying for several hours now, and he still didn’t feel like he was prepared enough. 

His phone chimed on the desk. Zuko grabbed it, knowing who it was before he even glanced at the screen. Sokka, once he’d finally asked Zuko for his number- “So I don’t have to come running down to the shop every time I need to tell you something,” he had explained, although the excuse had done nothing to quell Zuko’s embarrassment as he’d fumbled with his phone- had apparently decided that he was singlehandedly going to run up Zuko’s phone bill for the month. 

Zuko looked at the newest message and couldn’t help but grin. It was a picture of a dark grey cat with its face screwed up in a frown. Sokka followed it up with a message that read _this u?_

Zuko might have taken offense to it a few days ago, but he knew by now that Sokka didn’t mean anything by his teasing. Zuko typed back a quick message- _Right now, yes._ \- and then locked his phone, setting it aside to continue working on his problem. 

He made it another thirty seconds before his phone buzzed again. Zuko bit his lip, looking down at the work he was only halfway through, and then snatched up his phone. 

_what r u up 2?_ Sokka was relentless in his quest to never use proper grammar. 

_Homework,_ Zuko responded. 

_gross. stop doing it_

_I can’t. I have an exam tomorrow._

Zuko jumped when his phone started buzzing more quickly. He stared down at the incoming call- he didn’t have a display picture for Sokka, so the screen was just black, making it look a lot more threatening. 

Zuko swallowed, ignoring his own heartbeat, which had quickened. He accepted the call and raised it to his ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Stats again?” Sokka’s voice asked. 

“Yeah,” Zuko said, glancing at his computer. “Hey, do you think if I fell down the stairs I would still have to take my exam tomorrow?” 

“As someone who's tried that technique many times,” Sokka said, “yes.” 

Zuko sighed. 

“It’s almost midnight and you open tomorrow,” Sokka said. “Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, sleep a little?” 

“I need to finish studying first.” 

“It doesn’t matter how much you study if you’re exhausted for the exam.” 

“It doesn’t matter how exhausted I am if I fail the class,” Zuko snapped. Sokka didn’t respond, and Zuko shoved his chair away from the computer, rubbing his tired eyes. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Sokka said. “Are you okay? You’re more pissy than usual.” 

“I’m not pissy,” Zuko said. 

“Sure you aren’t.” 

Zuko rolled his eyes, then hesitated. “I saw Mai today,” he said. “We sort of had a fight.” 

He waited for Sokka to tell him that he didn’t care, that he didn’t call Zuko to hear him complain, but instead Sokka just said, “No shit? What about?” 

“She has a new boyfriend.” 

“Oh,” Sokka said. He sounded sympathetic. “That sucks, dude.”

“It’s fine,” Zuko said. “I really don’t care. I’m glad she’s happy.”

“Did you want to get back together with her?”

Despite himself, Zuko snorted. “No,” he said. “Mai’s a good friend, but we’re not- we’re not compatible like that.”

“I get that.” 

“Yeah,” Zuko said. He stood up, suddenly too restless to sit still anymore. “How’s Suki?”

“Hm? Oh,” Sokka said. “She’s fine. I don’t know, she’s been really busy lately. We usually hop online and play this game- World of Warcraft, have you heard of it? We’ve been playing together since high school. Anyways, we normally play at least once a week, but she’s been too busy recently. School and stuff like that. I don’t know. I’m going to talk to her whenever she gets home for winter break.”

Zuko’s mouth felt suddenly dry. He pressed his phone so tight against his ear it almost hurt. “Oh,” he said. “That’s- are you going to ask her out?”

“I don’t know,” Sokka said. “It seems kind of stupid to keep dancing around each other like we have been, though.”

“Right,” Zuko said, and his voice came out even more dry and grating than usual, and what the _fuck_ was wrong with him? He cleared his throat and said, “Good luck.”

“Thanks, man,” Sokka said. “Hey! Talking about our exes is boring. Let’s talk about something else.”

Zuko smiled a little and went to sit down on his bed. “Like what?” 

“I don’t know. Why do I have to come up with every idea?” Zuko laughed, and Sokka continued, “Do you have any pets?”

“Pets,” Zuko said. He tucked his feet up underneath him, smiling at nothing. “That’s all you have? I thought you were the plan man.”

“Sounds like someone’s a cat person.”

“Rude,” Zuko said. “Actually, I don’t have any pets right now. I had a couple of turtles growing up.”

“Turtles,” Sokka crowed. “Nerd.”

Zuko’s cheeks heated, but he was still grinning. “Turtles are cool,” he said. “They were my mom’s favorite animal. Turtles and ducks, but she thought it would be too difficult to try and have a pet duck.” 

“We had a dog when we were younger,” Sokka said. “This big Alaskan husky named Mochi. He passed away right after my mom did, but he had a good run.”

Zuko pressed himself back against his pillows. He knew that Sokka and Katara’s mother had died, but he still didn’t fully know what to say when Sokka brought it up. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Sokka was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “What happened to the turtles? Aren’t they supposed to live, like, a hundred years?”

“That’s tortoises.”

“Same thing.”

“No,” Zuko said, and then decided not to argue. “My father got rid of them after my mother left.”

“Oh,” Sokka said. “That’s really shitty.”

Zuko shrugged even though Sokka wouldn’t see it. “They were distracting me from my schoolwork.”

“What? It can’t have been that big of a deal.”

Zuko said, “My father wanted me at my best.”

He picked at a stray thread on his blanket while he waited for a response.

“I didn’t know your mom left,” Sokka said. 

Zuko blinked. “Yeah,” he said. “I thought I mentioned it.”

“No. Did she- you totally don’t have to talk about this by the way, I didn’t mean to-“ 

“It’s okay,” Zuko said. “She left when I was eleven.”

“Oh,” Sokka said. “You mean she just-”

“My father tried to tell us she was dead,” Zuko said, trying to lighten the situation. “When there was no funeral, though, my sister and I figured something was up.”

“Zuko,” Sokka said. His voice was uncharacteristically serious. “Dude, that’s, uh- that’s fucked up.” 

“It’s fine,” Zuko said, suddenly very uncomfortable. “It was years ago.”

“You were _eleven_.”

“Yeah,” Zuko said. “So, uh- no other pets except for Mochi?”

“No,” Sokka said, and thank _god_ he had picked up on Zuko’s hint to change the subject. “Aang’s got Appa, though, and he’s kind of everyone’s pet, because we all have to take turns helping Aang give him a bath. You met Appa, right?”

“Yes, and I’m fairly certain that he’s actually a horse.”

Sokka’s laugh was deep, loud through the speakers, and it made Zuko’s heart quicken a little. Zuko frowned and pressed a hand over his chest, wondering if he was getting sick or something. 

“It doesn’t help that Aang used to be able to ride him,” Sokka said. “He can’t anymore, but Gyatso has all these pictures of Aang on Appa’s back.”

“Sounds like wonderful blackmail material.” 

“You have a strategist’s mind,” Sokka said. 

Zuko grinned, then glanced across the room at his computer. The screen had gone dark. 

“I should probably go back to studying,” he said, already regretting his return to schoolwork. 

“Alright,” Sokka said. “Sorry if I distracted you.” 

“No,” Zuko said quickly. “No, I like- um-“ 

“You like what?” Sokka said, and Zuko glared even though Sokka couldn’t see him. 

“Asshole,” Zuko said. Sokka laughed. 

“Get some rest, nerd,” he said. 

“Don’t be late tomorrow, jerk.” 

“Hey, that’s my nickname!” 

“Alright, ponytail,” Zuko said, making Sokka bark out another laugh. 

“I’m hanging up now,” Sokka said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Okay,” Zuko said. 

“Okay.” 

“I thought you were going to hang up?” 

“Shut up,” Sokka said, and then he finally did. 

Zuko was smiling as he lowered his phone, as he stood up and walked back over to his desk, right up until he turned his computer back on. He stared at the slideshow he’d been working off of. His headache, which had gone away in the past few minutes, flared back up with a vengeance. 

Zuko’s phone buzzed. He frowned and grabbed it. It was another text from Sokka.

_seriously, get some SLEEP, dork._

Zuko shook his head and put his phone down. He looked at his computer again, and then sighed and closed it. 

Maybe he _had_ studied enough for the night. 

X X X X X

“What about this one?” Toph asked, holding up a neon green shirt and looking expectantly in Zuko’s direction. Zuko looked at the very mediocre cartoon tractor drawn on the front and said, “Farmer-chic.”

Toph pursed her lips, then shrugged and slung the shirt over her shoulder. “I’ll mark it down as a maybe,” she said, thrusting her hand back into the racks of thrifted clothes they were digging through.

Zuko had been confused when Toph had asked him to go shopping with her, because Toph lived out of the same plain t-shirts and sweatpants and mimed throwing up every time Katara talked about buying her some new clothes. Toph’s definition of shopping, however, seemed to be going to every seedy consignment store in the city and digging out increasingly ludicrous outfits to guilt Zuko into trying on. He had already been forced into several graphic tees with various cartoon characters on them just to stop Toph from throwing a fit in the back corner of Goodwill, but he had drawn the line at a plaid skirt Toph had been especially excited about.

“It’ll be hot,” she had insisted.

“Fuck off,” Zuko had said. 

Neither of them had found any actual clothes they wanted to buy, but Zuko had amassed a number of novelty shirts that he secretly found really funny. Toph had grabbed a few articles of clothing that she was planning on buying for her friends, including a pink shirt for Katara that was bedazzled with “Sugar Princess.”

Zuko didn’t think that one would go over very well.

“Hey nerd,” Toph said, drawing Zuko’s attention away from a basket full of fuzzy socks. She was holding up a shirt with a glittery rainbow flag on it, and just the sight of it made Zuko’s breath catch. “What’s this one?”

“Uh,” Zuko said. “It has the- the pride flag on it.”

“No shit,” Toph said. To Zuko’s surprise, she tossed it over her shoulder, too. “Close enough.”

Zuko swallowed back the sudden panic he felt clawing at his throat. He took a step towards Toph, then paused. “What does that mean?”

“It means they never make shit with the lesbian flag on it,” Toph said. She had gone back to the rack, running her fingers across the shirts to feel the fabric and texture. “I don’t know why gay people get all the attention, anyways. We’re way cooler.”

“Huh?” 

Toph cocked her head at him with a frown. “Dude,” she said. “I’m a lesbian.”

Zuko felt like he had just been punched in the gut. “Oh.”

“I could have sworn I told you,” Toph said.

Zuko watched her fingers skim over a blouse, brushing against the collar and the buttons before decisively shoving it aside. “No.”

Zuko stared at the rack of shirts, at the mixture of colors and fabrics. It felt as though the temperature had gone up twenty degrees.

“Got a problem with it, tea-for-brains?” Toph asked. Her voice was still calm, but there was an edge to it that had Zuko’s eyes widening.

“No,” he said. “No, of course not.”

“Hm,” Toph said. “Good.”

Zuko turned away from her. He felt vaguely sick, nauseous and sticky with the sudden heat. How could he have not known that Toph was a lesbian? If she’d been out in high school, surely Azula would have found out, would have found some way to exploit it to make Toph miserable. Did the others know, too? Sokka and Aang and Katara, were they alright with it? 

“I can hear you thinking too hard,” Toph said.

Zuko reached out to twist his fingers into a black sweater, nails digging into the soft wool. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, dumbass. What is it?”

Zuko bit his bottom lip, hard, and then asked, “How- how did you know?”

“How did I know I was a lesbian?” Toph snorted. “I guess when puberty hit and I wanted to make out with girls, that was a pretty big indicator.”

“Right,” Zuko said, feeling terribly uncertain, like if his next few words weren’t perfect everything would somehow crumble around him. “And you- you’ve been, you know- have you?”

Toph stopped. She turned to face Zuko, eyebrows raised incredulously. “Are you asking me if I’ve made out with a girl before?”

Zuko’s face felt impossibly warm. Disgusted with himself, he quickly said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Relax, dork,” Toph said. “I’m not mad, I just- of course I’ve made out with girls. It’s one of my favorite hobbies.”

Zuko let out a shaky breath. “Oh,” he said. 

Toph still looked suspicious, but she went back to digging through the clothes. Zuko stared at her, eyes wide. 

Toph was attracted to girls. Toph had- she had _been_ with girls, and she was still here, she was fine, she- Mai’s voice echoed in Zuko’s head, telling him _you deserve to be happy, too_ , and then his father’s voice, biting, hard, saying-

“Toph,” Zuko blurted out, because if he didn’t say anything he was going to throw up. “Toph, can I- can I tell you something?”

His voice cracked, and he expected Toph to make fun of him for it, but instead Toph just paused and looked at him, head tilted curiously.

Zuko opened his mouth and took several slow, calming breaths like his uncle had taught him. His tongue felt dry and his hands were shaking as he said, voice so quiet he could hardly hear himself over the distant pop music playing over the speakers, “I’m gay.”

Toph’s expression didn’t change. She blinked, eyes fixed on Zuko’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Toph said.

Zuko felt tears growing in his eyes. He sniffed and reached up to wipe at them angrily, thoroughly embarrassed by the whole situation.

“Hey,” Toph said. She stepped closer to Zuko, shifting the pile of clothes on her shoulder to a more comfortable position. “How many people have you told?”

“No one,” Zuko said. “I’ve never- I’ve never _told_ anyone.”

“I came out sophomore year,” Toph said. She smiled a little bitterly. “My parents weren’t thrilled at first, but they came around eventually. Well, not really, but now we just don’t talk about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Zuko said.

“It’s fine. My friends support me, and that’s all that matters.” 

Zuko nodded and dropped his gaze to his feet. “I’m glad.”

“I know how hard it is to come out, Zuko,” Toph said. When Zuko looked at her again, she was smiling one of her rare, genuine smiles. “For the record, I’m really honored that you felt comfortable enough to do it with me. If you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here for you. Dork,” she added, as though she couldn’t help it.

Zuko felt tired, wrung out in a way that had nothing to do with wandering around Goodwill for hours.

He also felt lighter than he had in years.

“Thank you, Toph,” he said, throat tight.

Toph nodded. She reached up to grab the rainbow shirt off of her shoulder and threw it at Zuko, who was so startled he almost didn’t catch it. “Here,” she said. “It’s more fitting, don’t you think?”

Zuko made a choked, half-amused sound in the back of his throat. He curled his fingers into the rough fabric.

“I’m still not wearing that skirt,” he said after a moment.

Toph grunted as she turned back to the clothing racks. “I’ll get you to wear it eventually,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: internalized homophobia
> 
> Zuko's struggle with stats is entirely inspired by my current real life struggles with stats. I am currently uploading this chapter instead of studying for an exam I have to take today, and I think that's very sexy of me.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued enthusiasm for this story, and thank you all for 3000 hits (wow!). I love chatting with y'all in the comments, so please keep those reviews coming :) 
> 
> Also, @zushiamai on tumblr made a LOVELY drawing of Zuko baking from the last chapter, so please check it out here and give them some love! https://zushiamai.tumblr.com/post/622955702880747520/the-moment-sokka-catches-zuko-baking-in-chapter-5 :) I love and encourage any and all drawings/writings/anythings inspired by my fics, so if anyone is interested in that, you have my full permission- just send me the link so I can see it and share it if you want!
> 
> I hope you're all continuing to stay safe and healthy <3


	7. Chapter 7

“I wanted kettle corn,” Toph said when Katara handed her a bowl of popcorn.

“We don’t have kettle corn,” Katara said. “But I put extra butter on yours.”

Toph thought it over for a minute, then shrugged. “I guess that’s fine,” she said, leaning back against the sofa cushions. She grabbed a fistful of popcorn and tossed it into her mouth, then said through the crumbs, “Sokka, would you _stop pacing_?”

Sokka, who had just spun on his heel to pace away from Toph, whipped back around to glare at her. “I am not pacing!”

“You’re kind of pacing,” Katara said as she dropped down onto the sofa beside Aang. She was so focused on watching Sokka that she didn’t see the way Aang’s cheeks flared a bright pink, and Sokka resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Their whole mutual-pining-from-afar thing had been cute at first, but now it was just depressing. 

“What are you nervous about?” Aang said, his voice coming out a shade higher than usual. 

“I’m not nervous.”

“You pace when you’re nervous,” Toph pointed out.

“I am not pacing!” Sokka marched over to the beanbag chair he’d dragged out of his room, and pointedly crossed his arms as he fell back against it. His butt had barely hit the fabric when there was a quiet knock at his front door, and Sokka shot back up so quickly he almost tripped on the corner of his rug.

“Shut up,” he said when Katara snickered. 

Sokka hurried across the room to the front door and threw it open. “Zuko!”

Zuko looked startled by the abrupt greeting, which made Sokka feel a little bad, but his eyes had gone so comically large that mostly Sokka was just amused.

“Hey,” Zuko said. He was wearing a dark red hoodie and jeans, a much more laid-back look than what he usually wore to the shop. Sokka was pretty partial to his buttondowns, personally, but he found an immediate appreciation for his new casual look. It was probably just because Zuko could make anything look good; he had those effortless rich kid genes that Sokka was insanely jealous of.

“Hey,” Sokka said. After a moment he stepped back, opening the door a bit wider for Zuko to pass through. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“Thanks.” Zuko ducked past him and glanced around the room. “Um, hi, everyone.”

“Hey, dweeb,” Toph said as Aang waved. Katara didn’t glare at him, which Sokka thought was a huge improvement. 

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Zuko said, toeing off his sneakers and leaving them neatly by the front door.

“That’s alright,” Sokka said. Behind him, Aang said, “Oh, that was it!” and then- “Ow! Toph!” 

“Do you want popcorn?” Sokka asked loudly over the sound of Katara scolding Toph. “I can get you some popcorn. Here-” Sokka reached out and snagged Zuko’s wrist, tugging him further into the room because it looked like Zuko was just going to try and stand there for the rest of the night. Sokka liked the guy, but he was definitely a little awkward sometimes. “You can sit on dead Appa.”

“I _told_ you not to call it that!” Aang said as Sokka gave Zuko a shove towards the massive, shaggy white beanbag Sokka had dragged out of his room. 

“You have to admit, it kind of looks like him, Aang,” Sokka said, meeting his friend’s glare with an apologetic shrug.

“I second stupid head,” Toph said.

Sokka pointed at her. “Rude, but I appreciate the effort.” He started backing away from them towards the kitchen, checking to make sure that Zuko was actually sitting down. “I’m going to go make more popcorn. Don’t start the movie without me.”

“It doesn’t look like dead Appa,” Aang muttered, slouching lower in his seat. Katara turned a concerned frown on him, reaching up to lay a hand on his shoulder because _of course she had to that_. Sokka just hoped she would stay distracted while he was gone. He knew that she had made a truce with Zuko, but he still didn’t trust her to be especially nice to him.

But Toph would look after him while Sokka wasn’t there. Sokka turned and walked into the kitchen. 

He grabbed a bag of microwave popcorn out of the box on his counter, ripping the plastic off and tossing it in the microwave. While it spun around in there he went to get a cup down from his cabinet- all he had left was a plastic novelty cup he’d gotten at the renaissance fair with Aang, but it would do- and poured a glass of ice water. He grabbed a large bowl to dump the popcorn into and rested his hip against the counter while he waited the final few seconds. 

_This is fine,_ Sokka thought as the microwave beeped. He pulled open the door and grabbed the popcorn bag, pinching the hot paper between the tips of his fingers. 

This was totally fine. Zuko had hung out with the group before, and it always went really well (once Katara had stopped aiming for his throat every time he tried to speak). Still, Sokka had that fluttery feeling in his stomach that he got whenever he was nervous, and he couldn’t figure out what the issue was, which was only making him _more_ anxious. It was probably because this was Zuko’s first movie night with them, and movie night was kind of a big deal around here, and Sokka wanted Zuko to be comfortable. 

That made sense.

Sokka dumped the popcorn into the bowl and left the empty bag on the counter. He grabbed the glass of water and headed back out of the kitchen.

Aang was talking when Sokka returned, leaning forward in his seat and waving his hands around in excitement. All of them seemed to be listening, including Zuko, who was watching Aang with a half-smile. 

“And then Appa pulled on the rope and dragged me out of the ravine,” Aang said. He grinned at Zuko. “He got me and my broken ankle all the way home.”

“Yes,” Katara said, looking vaguely tense beside him. “How heroic. Maybe don’t go exploring ravines, though, Aang.”

“Don’t worry, Katara,” Aang said, “Appa and I always use the buddy system now!” 

“I come bearing snacks,” Sokka announced, because his sister looked like she was about to have an aneurysm. He walked across the room to Zuko, handing the cold cup down to him. “And water, because hydration is important.”

“Oh,” Zuko said, looking pleasantly surprised as he accepted the drink. “Thanks, Sokka.”

Zuko was incredibly easy to please. All Sokka had to do was show him basic etiquette and he went as red as a sea urchin. It was one of Sokka’s new favorite hobbies.

“I want water, too,” Toph said.

“You have feet,” said Sokka. He pointed at the empty space next to Zuko on the beanbag- there wasn’t much, but the website Sokka had ordered it from had listed it as a two-person beanbag, and Sokka wanted to get his money’s worth. “Mind if I join you?”

Zuko immediately started scooting over. “Oh, yeah, sorry-”

“You’re good.” Sokka grabbed the remote off the coffee table and fell back on the beanbag beside Zuko. Okay, maybe it was a one-and-a- _half_ person beanbag, but Sokka and Zuko were both on it, and it was still comfy. “See?” Sokka handed the popcorn bowl over to Zuko to hold while he fiddled with the remote. 

“What are we watching?” Zuko asked as Sokka turned on the television.

“The Lion King,” Sokka said, pulling up the movie through a not entirely legal streaming service. “Aang and Katara like the music, Toph and I like the violence.”

“I like when Scar gets his ass pounded,” Toph said, punching her fist into the palm of her hand with a grin. 

“Uh,” Zuko said, “isn’t it a kid’s movie?”

“You haven’t seen the Lion King, Zuko?” Aang asked.

Zuko shook his head. “We didn’t watch a lot of television growing up.” 

Sokka bit his tongue as he pulled up the movie. From the very little he knew of Zuko’s childhood, it definitely didn’t seem super warm and fuzzy. He’d be surprised if the guy had ever even seen a Disney movie.

“Well, now’s your chance,” he said. He hit play on the remote and then dropped it to the ground next to him. “Oh, Katara,” he said, rolling his head back to smile hopefully at his sister, “wanna turn the lights off?”

“You have feet,” Katara said, but she stood up and went to hit the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. 

Zuko was holding the popcorn bowl in his lap. Sokka reached over to grab a handful, and then lowered his voice to whisper to him, “Dead Appa’s pretty comfy, right?”

“You really should stop calling it that.” Zuko’s voice was even rougher than usual when he whispered, but he sounded amused. “I think Aang takes it personally.” 

“That’s what makes it funny.”

“Are you two knuckleheads _seriously_ already talking?” Toph asked loudly.

Sokka shoved another handful of popcorn into his mouth and shut up. 

The beanbag _was_ a little too small for them both to sit comfortably with any space between them. Sokka and Zuko were flush against one another, arms and hips and legs pressing together. Sokka crossed his feet at the ankle, feeling his knee brush Zuko’s. He sank back into the beanbag and tried to focus on the talking animals on the screen and not Zuko’s steady breathing beside him. 

A few minutes into the film, Sokka realized that it was very, _very_ difficult not to focus on Zuko. He couldn’t help it- they were right next to each other, and Zuko was expressive, in a quiet way. He gripped the popcorn bowl tight but didn’t eat any, gaze fixed on the television. In the pale blue glow of the screen illuminating the living room, Zuko’s silhouette looked soft and vaguely ethereal. When Mufasa died, Sokka felt Zuko tense up beside him, and Sokka had to resist the urge to put an arm around him for comfort, because Zuko was not Katara and that’s definitely not something bros did with each other.

Instead, he waited until the scene was over, and then whispered, “You good?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said. “I’m fine.”

Sokka frowned, but he didn’t want Toph to yell at him for talking again. Instead, he leaned a little more firmly into Zuko, pressing their shoulders together. It took a moment for Zuko to reciprocate, but when Sokka felt his weight settle a bit easier against Sokka, Sokka couldn’t hold back a small victory grin.

Halfway through the movie, Sokka glanced over at the couch. Aang had his arm around Katara, who had curled into his side with an arm draped around his waist. They were both focused on the movie, but Aang looked extremely proud of himself, and Sokka bit back a laugh.

Sokka did try to focus a little more on the movie after that, so much so that he didn’t notice how still Zuko had gone beside him until he felt something drop onto his shoulder. Sokka glanced down- and then blinked.

Zuko’s eyes were shut, his head tipped to the side to rest on Sokka’s shoulder. His hand had gone loose on the popcorn bowl, leaving it tipping dangerously in his lap. Sokka grabbed it, carefully extricated it from Zuko’s slack grip, and put it down on the floor beside him, moving slowly so as not to jar Zuko out of his sleep.

Zuko took a long, slow breath, tilting his head to press his cheek against Sokka’s shoulder. Sokka grinned. When he turned back to the movie, Zuko’s long hair brushed against his chin. 

When the movie ended, Zuko was still asleep, a warm weight curled up against Sokka, and Sokka didn’t want to move. The credits rolled, throwing the room into semi-darkness. The others were quiet, lending the space a sleepy, comfortable feeling. 

Finally, Sokka heard rustling. He looked up to see Katara standing there, looking down at them. Sokka tensed, preparing to defend himself if Katara tried to make any comments, but from the little he could see of Katara’s face in the dark, she didn’t look upset.

“Aang’s going to take me home,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sokka relaxed back into the beanbag. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Katara nodded. Aang asked in a too-loud whisper, “Toph, do you want a ride home?”

“Only if I can drive, Twinkle-toes,” Toph said, getting to her feet and stretching her arms up high over her head.

They left Sokka’s apartment quietly, giving him small waves as they slipped out the door. Then they were gone, and the television fell silent on the movie’s home page, and the only sound in the room was Zuko’s soft, steady breathing. 

Sokka tipped his head back, staring up at the dark ceiling. It wasn’t even very late yet, but he felt tired, and he was fairly certain that if he closed his eyes he would fall asleep here, too. 

It was tempting, but Sokka couldn’t do that. He lifted his head again and glanced at Zuko, bringing a hand up to brush along his shoulder.

“Zuko,” he whispered. 

Zuko shifted, twisting so he could curl more closely around Sokka. Sokka watched him. He felt bad about waking him; he’d learned recently just how little Zuko seemed to sleep, and this was the most peaceful Sokka had ever seen him. Zuko’s expression had smoothed, relaxed the frown lines between his brows. He looked young like this. The contrast between his scar and the rest of his face was even starker than it normally was.

Sokka felt himself frowning as he wondered, not for the first time, how Zuko had gotten his scar. People had said all sorts of things about it in high school- the most popular theory had been that he had gotten into a nasty fight and the other guy had decided to teach him a lesson, but now that Sokka knew Zuko, he doubted that any of the stories he’d heard were true. Zuko had had the scar for as long as Sokka could remember him, and it was so built into Sokka’s mental image of him that he’d never really questioned or noticed it outside of using it as ammunition for cheap shots.

Looking at him like this, though, with Zuko’s head resting against Sokka’s shoulder and one of his legs tucked under Sokka’s, Sokka realized with a sharp pang that there had been a time before Zuko had the scar. At some point he hadn’t had it, and then something had changed that. 

Now wasn’t the time to ponder Zuko’s past, though. Sokka reached across to touch Zuko’s shoulder again, shaking him gently.

“Zuko,” he said, a little louder this time. “Wake up.” 

Zuko’s face pinched. He raised one hand to rub at his good eye, mouth opening as he yawned. He lowered his hand, eyes cracking open to see Sokka staring down at him, and-

Sokka jumped when Zuko pulled away from him as though he’d been burned. “Oh, my god,” he said, scrambling to roll off the beanbag.

“Hey,” Sokka said, getting quickly to his feet. “You okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” Zuko said. He was standing now, shoulders hunched down, eyes fixed on Sokka’s knees. “How long was I asleep? Did I miss the movie?”

“Just the ending,” Sokka said, “but don’t worry, all the good songs are in the beginning, anyways.” 

Zuko raised his eyes to look around the empty living room. Whatever peace he’d experienced in sleep had been stripped away, leaving behind nothing but tension. Seriously, the guy was woven tighter than a basket. 

“Did everyone else leave?” He looked horrified. “I’ll get going, I’m so sorry if I-”

“Dude,” Sokka said, uncomfortable with Zuko’s clear panic, “chill. It’s okay. You, uh- you seemed tired.”

Zuko toyed with the sleeve of his hoodie, twisting it between his fingers. “I didn’t really sleep well last night,” he said, still not looking at Sokka.

“That sucks.” Sokka wanted to wipe that awful, pained expression off Zuko’s face. “It’s pretty late. You can totally crash here if you want, I can set you up on the couch, mi casa es su casa and all that-”

If possible, Zuko just looked more embarrassed. “No,” he said, “I’m alright. I should probably head back, my uncle will be wondering where I am.”

“Do you want a ride?”

Zuko shook his head. “I can walk.”

“Okay,” Sokka said.

He walked Zuko to the front door, pulling it open for him. Zuko slipped out into the hall with his head ducked low, turning to face Sokka.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he said. “I’m really sorry I, um, fell asleep.”

“It’s okay,” Sokka said. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

Zuko shook his head. “No. Thank you.”

Sokka pressed his fingers into the cool wood of the door, leaning his hip against it. The hall was half-lit with buzzing fluorescent lights overhead, making Zuko look pale and tired. Sokka wished he’d let him sleep a little longer.

“Next week we’re watching the Princess Bride,” Sokka said. “It’s Aang’s favorite. You should come.”

Zuko looked up at Sokka. His eyes were wide and surprised. “Really?”

“Only if you want,” Sokka said quickly.

Slowly, Zuko nodded. “Okay,” he said. His face broke into a small, hesitant smile, and Sokka stared, because it made his whole face brighten. “I’d like that.”

“Cool,” Sokka said. He grinned back. “Get back safe, nerd.”  
Zuko’s smile widened as he shook his head. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” he said, turning to walk down the hall.

“Bye,” Sokka said. He watched him leave for a few seconds, then decided that was weird and stepped back into his apartment, closing the door.

Sokka stayed like that for a moment, hand curled around the cold doorknob, staring at the back of his door. He leaned his head forward to rest his forehead against the wood. He had been tired before, but now it felt as though all the adrenaline in his body had decided to go on a quick jog through his veins.

“What the fuck,” Sokka said out loud.

X X X X X

Halfway through Sokka’s afternoon shift, Iroh called him across the room to the Pai Sho table. Sokka set the dishes he’d been carrying down on the front counter and walked towards the corner of the room, wiping his hands off on his apron. The shop was slow today, and Zuko wasn’t here, so Sokka had been hoping for something interesting to happen.

But by interesting, he definitely didn’t mean getting in trouble for… whatever it was he had done.

“In my defense,” Sokka said as he drew alongside the table, “that bag of flour was mostly empty when I threw it.”

Iroh looked up from the wooden tiles he’d been examining. He raised his eyebrows, wide mouth settling in an amused smile.

“I’m sure it was,” he said. He waved a hand at the empty seat across from him. “Sit down, please. It’s time you learn the true trick of the business.”

Sokka sat, looking curiously over the empty board. “Pai Sho?”

“This game is centuries old,” Iroh said. He scooped a small pile of wooden tiles into his hand and then leaned across the table to carefully set them in front of Sokka. “It hails primarily from East Asia in the 11th century. It is a game of both luck and skill- you cannot win without them both.”

“Oh,” Sokka said. He picked up one of the tiles and examined the small painted boat on it. “Cool. I’m super lucky.” 

Iroh chuckled. “A valuable talent to have, certainly,” he said. He picked up one of his wooden tiles and held it up to show Sokka. It had a small white flower on it. “Pick one of your flower tiles and place it anywhere on the board. The guest always makes the first move.” 

Sokka looked down at his pile of tiles. He brushed his fingers over them, glancing at all of the paintings on them, and then picked up one lying on the periphery.

“The orchid,” Iroh said as Sokka placed it on the board. “An interesting choice.”

Sokka looked up at him. “Did I just lose?”

Iroh smiled and shook his head. “The orchid signifies elegance and beauty.” He placed his own tile down, and waved a hand over it. “The white lotus. It is one of the most overlooked pieces in the game, but there is strength in what others call its weaknesses.” 

“What does it do?” Sokka asked, intrigued. He had seen a lot of different players at work in the shop, but the rules had always gone over his head. 

“The white lotus can form harmonies with every flower tile,” Iroh said. “It doesn’t move very fast or far, but it can unite even the most stubborn pieces, and thus is invaluable.” 

Sokka took this in, and then looked down at his pieces again. He picked up his own white lotus tile and placed it on the board with a _click_.

“Very good,” Iroh said, looking pleased. 

Iroh explained the rules gradually as they went, until Sokka had a good grasp of the basics. It was a slow game requiring a lot of strategy, and Sokka quickly got caught up in it. 

“Remember,” Iroh said, moving his chrysanthemum tile until it was next to his white lotus, “the tiles work with you, not for you. Form a partnership with your pieces, and they will guide you towards the right move.”

Sokka played his wheel tile, making Iroh nod as he rotated his pieces. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, going back and forth with their turns. The bell over the front door rang several times to signify customers leaving, but no new ones came in. 

“I’ve noticed that you and my nephew have been spending a lot of time together,” Iroh said, breaking Sokka out of his concentration.

“Yeah,” Sokka said, reaching out to move his orchid tile around to the other side of the board. He bit his lip, checking that it was a safe move before removing his hand. “Zuko’s really great.” 

“He is a wonderful young man,” Iroh agreed. “I’m happy he has found such a good friend in you.”

Sokka watched as Iroh made his move, neatly claiming one of Sokka’s pieces. Sokka bit his bottom lip, debating whether he should ask- he probably shouldn’t, but-

“Zuko doesn’t get along well with his family, does he,” he said, trying to play it off as casual as he made his next move. Then he raised his eyes and said quickly, “Except for you, of course.”

Iroh looked at him. His eyes were a darker amber than Zuko’s, but still just as jarringly bright. “What has Zuko told you?”

“Not much,” Sokka admitted. “I kind of got the hint that he doesn’t like talking about it. He told me about his mom, though.”

Iroh nodded slowly. He inspected the board for a moment, thinking over his next turn. “Zuko’s father Ozai is my younger brother,” he said. “He is a well-accomplished man, and very particular about his image. Very traditional. We disagree on many things.”

Sokka tried to picture Ozai as an older Zuko, maybe a little sterner and with more grey hairs. “Like what?”

Iroh moved his boat tile around the perimeter of the board. “I do not wish to share anything that Zuko doesn’t want me to,” he said. He clasped his hands together, looking at Sokka over the board. “But you are a good friend to him, and it is clear that you care about him, so I will say this- Ozai’s expectations were impossible to live up to, and he was very vocal about his displeasure. Zuko did not have an easy time growing up. And while it does not excuse his actions while he was younger, I do think it goes a long way towards explaining them.”

Sokka nodded slowly, thinking this over. “I used to think Zuko was evil,” he said. “But now that I know him, he’s- not. He’s really nice, and I just can’t figure out why he used to be so awful.”

“Zuko has not confided in me everything that happened between him and his father,” Iroh said, “and believe me when I say it’s hard to not know the full story. Zuko is a very, very private person.”

Sokka dropped his gaze to the board. It looked like Iroh was going to win, but Sokka thought he was putting up a good fight. “Yeah. I got that much.”

“I have seen a remarkable change in him these past few months, however,” Iroh said. Sokka met his gaze, which was kind and so terribly understanding it made Sokka’s breath catch in his throat. “I think if your friendship continues along its course, Zuko will open up to you in a way he hasn’t before. He trusts you very much, Sokka.”

Sokka swallowed. He knew all this- he could tell that Zuko trusted him from the way he clung to Sokka’s side when the group got together, from the way he spoke to Sokka like he was surprised by his own words, like he didn’t expect Sokka to listen and was startled when he did. Zuko’s trust was a fragile, fleeting thing, and it terrified Sokka.

Iroh moved his last piece, forming a ring of tiles around the center of the board. “I win,” he said, matter-of-fact. “You are a very quick learner, Sokka.”

“Thanks,” Sokka said. “This is a cool game.”

Iroh smiled, pleased. “I am always looking for more partners to play with,” he said. “Lately Zuko has been too busy to sit down with me.”

Sokka smiled a little bashfully. “I’d love to play again,” he said, standing up and pushing his chair back in. “It beats doing the dishes.”

Iroh laughed. Sokka turned to go, because new customers had finally come in and were seating themselves across the room, but he paused when Iroh said, “Sokka.”

Sokka turned back to him. Iroh was gathering up his pieces, stacking them into small piles in front of him. “Zuko would be unhappy with me if he knew I was saying this,” he said, “so I will only say it once.” Iroh looked up, his expression open and underscored with an emotion Sokka couldn’t quite place. “It takes a very strong character to be able to forgive someone as fully as you have,” he said. “Thank you for giving my nephew a second chance.” 

Sokka felt awkward, and wanted to protest, because _Zuko_ had done all the work. But Iroh looked so grateful, and the couple that had just sat down were starting to crane their necks to look for a waiter, so Sokka just bowed his head. 

“I’m glad I did,” he said. He left Iroh sitting there, smiling down at his Pai Sho pieces.

X X X X X

Sokka really liked living alone. He and Katara had shared a room when they had been really young, and even after they moved in with Gran Gran and they each got their own they spent so much of their time together that Sokka never really felt like he had his own space. That wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, because he loved his sister and was glad they had grown up so close.

Still, he always felt a rush of relief whenever he had the apartment to himself. He had his friends over a lot, but when he had a night fully to himself in his own small, quiet apartment, Sokka was grateful for the time to unwind. 

Maybe he was getting old. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t quite keep up with Aang and Toph’s energy the way he’d used to. Oh, god, he was turning into his sister.

Sokka had dragged his beanbag back into his room and sprawled out on it with his sketchpad in his lap. He hadn’t sat down just to draw in a long time. He thumbed through the first half of the book, looking over the sketches he had drawn of comic book characters, of his friends, of various buildings in his neigborhood. Then he stopped at a fresh page and stared down at it, pencil in hand.

Sokka didn’t like to think when he drew. He liked to say that his hand had a mind of its own, so he just let it guide the strokes of his pencil. Sometimes he didn’t know what he was drawing until he was halfway through it. Tonight was no different. He relaxed back against the soft fabric of his beanbag chair, tucking his feet underneath him as he drew, his lines dark and heavy, and soon a familiar face was glaring up at him.

Sokka paused. He liked drawing his friends for practice, and he hadn’t drawn Zuko yet, so he wasn’t surprised to see the other boy’s silhouette taking shape in the harsh lines.

Sokka had never gotten one of his friends this wrong before, though. It was too dark, too rough, making Zuko look angry. Scowling to himself, Sokka flipped to the next blank page and tried again, changing his grip on the pencil to draw softer lines.

He worked in silence for several long minutes. He was just about to scrap this drawing, too- it was better, but Zuko’s eyes had more expression than that, and he’d done the scar all wrong- when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Sokka shifted to grab it, twirling his pencil between his fingers as he glanced at the message he’d just received. He’d texted Zuko awhile ago asking him what he was doing tonight, and he’d just received his response- _Nothing._

Sokka tapped on Zuko’s contact and pressed his phone to his ear, balancing it there with his shoulder as he flipped to a new page in his sketchbook.

The line rang three times before Zuko picked up. “Hello?” 

“Hey, sunshine,” Sokka said. He started sketching again, trying to picture the angle of Zuko’s eyes in his mind. “Watcha doing?”

“I literally just answered that question,” Zuko said, sounding amused. “Nothing.”

“Aw, but it’s Saturday night, dude,” Sokka said. “You should be out partying!”

“Oh, really? And what are you doing?”

“Hm,” Sokka said, shading in Zuko’s cheekbones. “Nothing.”

“Hypocrite.” 

“Maybe so.” Sokka paused, relaxing back against the beanbag and staring across the room at his Kill Bill poster. “Hey, do you want to come over?”

“Now?” Zuko asked, surprise in his voice. “It’s late.”

“It’s only nine, grandma. Come on, I’m bored. I can come pick you up and everything.”

“No, it’s not that far a walk,” Zuko said.

Sokka brightened. “So you’re coming?”

Zuko sighed into the phone. “I suppose.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Sokka said, making Zuko laugh.

“I’ll be over in fifteen minutes.”

“The front door’s open!” 

They hung up and Sokka went back to his drawing, trying to scrap together a passing rendition of Zuko before the guy got there. He was halfway through yet _another_ failed attempt- his nose was way smaller than that, Sokka, get it _together_ \- when there was a soft knock on his door. 

Sokka jumped up, closing his sketchbook. He dropped it on his desk as he crossed the room, reaching out to grab the doorknob and pulling it open. 

“That took twenty-five minutes,” Sokka declared, crossing his arms.

Zuko, who was wearing a plain green sweater and dark sweats, raised a grocery bag. “I made a pit stop for snacks.”

“Ooh!” Sokka reached out to snatch the bag from him, plastic crinkling. “Apology accepted!” 

He stepped back to let Zuko in, closing the door behind him. Sokka peered into the bag as he crossed the room and hopped up onto his unmade bed. 

“Hot Cheetos,” he said, pulling out the chip bag and tossing it down, “Takis- I’m seeing a pattern here.” 

“You don’t have to eat them,” Zuko said. He sat down next to Sokka, close to the edge of the bed.

“No, I love spicy shit,” Sokka said, still poking around the bag. “Oh, fruit snacks, hell yeah!”

“If I’d known it was this easy to get on your good side I would have provided food during training,” Zuko said with a grin. 

“It would have worked.” Sokka opened the bag of Cheetos. He tossed one in his mouth and chewed as Zuko looked around the room, twisting his head to see all of Sokka’s movie posters. Sokka was rather proud of the collection he’d gathered over the years.

“Your room is cool,” Zuko said. “It must be nice to have your own apartment. I still live with my uncle.”

“Hey, Iroh is dope,” Sokka said. “I would love to have him as a roommate.”

“Yeah, it’s great until you realize he only let you live there so he’d have a built-in Pai Sho partner.” Sokka laughed, which in turn made Zuko grin. 

“Fair,” Sokka said. “Katara and I grew up with our grandma, and I swear she only let us come so she would have someone to play Scrabble with. On the upside, however, I am now a Scrabble master.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Zuko said. He scooted further up the bed- still too stiff, but better- and reached for the Cheeto bag. Sokka tilted it towards him so he could grab a handful. “Are you close with your grandma?” 

“Yeah,” Sokka said. “My dad’s in the navy, so he’s away for most of the year. After our mom died, Gran Gran kind of took over for me and Katara.” He ate another Cheeto, relishing the sting on his tongue. “It’s always kind of been the three of us against the world, I guess.” 

“That’s nice,” Zuko said. “Being so close with your family, I mean.”

Sokka wanted to ask about Zuko’s family, about his own sister and his father and why he talked circles around them, but he knew that would be a bad idea. Katara always said Sokka had the emotional tact of a seal, but he wasn’t that oblivious.

Sokka was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t realize that silence had fallen until Zuko said, awkwardly, “I like your nails.”

Sokka glanced at his nails. He’d painted them dark blue yesterday. “Hey, thanks!” He grinned at Zuko, and then said, “Want me to do yours?”

“Huh?” Zuko watched as Sokka set the bag of Cheetos down and rolled off the bed.

“Your nails,” Sokka said. He walked over to his desk and yanked open his top drawer, shoving aside the loose papers and candy wrappers he’d shoved inside to keep out of sight until he found the handful of nail polish bottles he’d collected over the years. He debated for a moment before grabbing one of them. “I can paint yours, too. We can match!”

“Oh,” Zuko said. He looked a little stunned as Sokka hopped back onto the bed beside him. 

“Don’t worry, I’m good at it.” Sokka shook the nail polish bottle, then held it up for Zuko to see. “Red okay?”

“Um, sure.”

Sokka hummed to himself, sitting lotus-style so he was facing Zuko. He reached out towards Zuko. “Gimme.”

Zuko hesitated before offering his hand. Sokka took it, keeping his touch light. Sokka’s fingers brushed the underside of Zuko’s wrist; the skin there was rough, textured. Sokka twisted his hand just a little to see that Zuko’s palm was licked with burn scars, pink against his pale skin. They looked old. Sokka figured that he must have gotten them at the same time as the one on his face.

Sokka placed Zuko’s hand on his knee and picked up the nail polish bottle, taking the top off. “Hold this,” he said, handing it over to Zuko.

Zuko had nice, neat nails, carefully trimmed to a reasonable length. Sokka started on his pinky finger, swiping polish against it to make the first even coat. Then he moved onto the next one, repeating the process, bending low to make sure he could see what he was doing. 

Zuko was quiet except for his breathing. When Sokka raised his head to dip the brush back into the bottle, Zuko wordlessly tilted it towards him.

Sokka finished Zuko’s first hand and raised it up to look at it, eyeing his work critically. “Don’t move that one,” he ordered, placing Zuko’s hand back on his knee. He reached out to take the bottle from Zuko, balancing it carefully against his rumpled blankets so he could take Zuko’s other hand.

“That’s going to spill,” Zuko said, dutifully letting Sokka guide his hand onto Sokka’s other knee.

Sokka shrugged. “Katara’s good at getting stains out.”

He worked quietly for a minute, focusing on Zuko’s nails and not the warm weight of his hand against Sokka’s knee. He was halfway through his right hand when Zuko said, quietly, “You’re good at this.”

“I told you so.” Sokka glanced up to find Zuko already looking at him. Sokka’s next joke died in his throat; he still wasn’t fully convinced that Zuko’s eyes were actually that color, and that he wasn’t wearing colored contacts or something. They were liquid gold, and very intense up close.

Sokka swallowed, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. “My ex-girlfriend taught me,” he said, hunching over Zuko’s hand again. 

“Suki?”

“No,” Sokka said. “My first girlfriend. Yue. She died my freshman year of high school.”

“Oh.” Sokka finished off Zuko’s thumb and raised his head again. Zuko wasn’t looking at him anymore, but down at his red nails, and it was a relief to have that gaze off of him. “I’m sorry, Sokka.”

Sokka smiled, just a little bit. He dipped the brush back in the bottle and moved back over to Zuko’s left hand. “Second coat,” he said, taking his hand carefully, fingers brushing over the burn scars. “It’ll keep it from chipping.”

He kept working, watching the fresh paint glisten under his bedroom lights. Zuko was quiet, but it was a comfortable kind of silence, and it didn’t take long for Sokka to start speaking again.

“Yue always had her nails painted,” he said. “She liked to do all these intricate designs. She was really good at it, too.” Sokka brushed his thumb along the edge of Zuko’s nail, picking up a spot of stray polish. “When she got sick, she didn’t really have the coordination to keep doing it. I had her teach me so I could do them for her. Never really mastered any of her fancy tricks, but I got pretty good at a basic paint job.” 

Sokka placed Zuko’s hand back down and started on the second coat for his other hand. “Red was her favorite color, too.” He smiled a little bit, remembering the first time he’d done a good job of it and Yue had pressed her hand against the stark white sheets in the hospital, admiring the contrast. “Which was funny, because she never really wore it. She liked it for its energy.”

“She sounds lovely,” Zuko said in a soft voice.

“She was.” Sokka picked up the nail polish bottle, putting the cap back on and twisting it shut. “She was the kindest person I’ve ever met. The strongest, too. She fought right up until the very end, you know? That shit- it’s hard enough watching someone go through it, but she never let it get to her. Even when-” Sokka’s breath hitched. He could still see’s Yue’s face in his mind, as though he’d just been to visit her yesterday. Even at her worst, when she’d been pale and too thin and unable to do more than tilt her head in Sokka’s direction, she had been beautiful.

Zuko’s fingers curled against Sokka’s knee. The pressure grounded Sokka, who blinked back tears he hadn’t even realized were there.

“My cousin died when I was eleven.” Zuko’s voice was quiet, but steady. Sokka raised his head to look at him; Zuko was staring down at his hand on Sokka’s leg. “Iroh’s son, Lu Ten. He was a lot older than us, but he was always really nice to me whenever he visited. He traveled a lot, and he used to bring back little trinkets for me and my sister.” 

A small smile curled Zuko’s lips at the memory. Sokka latched onto it, shaky as it was, trying to shove back the emotion he felt building in his throat. 

“He was killed in action,” Zuko said. “Military. I’d never lost anyone that close to me before, so I didn’t really understand at the time, but I knew that my Uncle was devastated. He- he was so different, after Lu Ten died. Quieter. I don’t think I saw him smile again for a year after that.” Zuko hesitated, as though he was choosing his words carefully. “I never understood how he could be happy after losing someone like that,” he said. “My uncle told me- he told me that even though Lu Ten wasn’t here anymore, he wasn’t actually gone. He says that when someone leaves us, their soul is released back into the universe, and they stay close to us. They’re in the trees that cast shade on us on hot days, in the sunbeams that warm our skin when we get cold. He says that they’re always watching out for us, and if you listen, you can hear their voice in the wind, letting us know that they’re never that far from us.”

Zuko raised his eyes to look at Sokka. Sokka was used to seeing pity reflected back at him whenever he spoke about Yue, used to his friends’ awkward evasion as they struggled to change the subject, but Zuko’s gaze was steady and sympathetic in a way that made Sokka’s chest hurt.

“Yue is still with you,” Zuko said. “When you love someone, you will always carry a piece of them with you.” 

Sokka dropped his head into his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes, hard. He heard the bedsprings adjust as Zuko shifted. He took his hands off of Sokka’s legs, and Sokka immediately missed their warmth.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” said Zuko, sounding a little worried.

Sokka sniffed. He rubbed his eyes, then raised his head to look at Zuko again. Zuko’s hair was tied up in a neat topknot, but a few strands had come loose to hang across his furrowed brow. Sokka bit back the urge to reach out and brush them away, tuck them behind his ears so he could see his eyes in their entirety. 

“No,” Sokka said. “No. I-” He paused, swallowed hard. “ _Thank you_ , Zuko.” 

Zuko’s smile was small and tender and so very cautious, and Sokka wanted to pluck it up and tuck it behind his ribcage so he could always carry a piece of it with him as well. 

Sokka sniffed again, then reached out to take Zuko’s hand, looking his nails over. 

“I think they’re dry,” Sokka said.

“Thank you,” Zuko said. “They look great.”

Sokka squeezed Zuko’s fingers once, then let them go. He took a deep, shaky breath, and then straightened up, smiling off the tears he still felt building in the back of his throat.

“Right, that’s enough of that for one night,” he said. “Wanna watch a movie or something?” 

“Depends,” Zuko said, following Sokka as he hopped off the bed. “Is it going to be Disney again?”

“You need to be educated, young man,” Sokka said, drawing a laugh from Zuko. “Seriously, who hasn’t seen _Aladdin_?”

“Fine,” Zuko said. “Let’s go watch your cartoons.”

“Animation!”

“Whatever,” Zuko said, and Sokka rolled his eyes.

“I should charge you,” Sokka said, jabbing a finger at Zuko’s nails. “This isn’t a free salon, you know.” 

“Hey, I paid for the snacks.”

Sokka paused, debated this, and then nodded. “Fine,” he said. He grabbed the bag of Cheetos and a couple of fruit snack pouches off of the bed. “C’mon, sunshine, it’s a lot more fun when Katara isn’t there to talk about how illogical talking animals are.”

“She does have a point,” Zuko said, and Sokka groaned as he led the way to the living room.

“Don’t you start on me, too!” 

X X X X X

“I think I could win the Olympics,” Sokka said. He turned his face away from the spray of water as he pointed the sink’s nozzle at the plate, cleaning the soap suds off of it.

“Oh, really?” Zuko took the plate from him, eyebrows raised as he dried it off with a towel. “Which sport?” 

“Any of them,” Sokka said. “Hand-to-hand combat, maybe?” 

Zuko snorted. “That’s definitely not an Olympic sport.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Sokka said, “because they knew that if it was, I would have bested every other champion by the age of nine.” 

“Really,” Zuko said. He leaned back against the sink, grinning as Sokka dug another cup out of the soapy water. “I don’t think you could even win a fight against Aang.”

“No, I couldn’t, but only because the kid is too quick.” Sokka hosed down the cup and passed it over to Zuko. “He’s slippery. Like a snake. No, I’m talking _real_ fighting. I really think I could get the gold.” 

“I’ll tell Uncle that you need to take time off for training.” 

“Hey, thanks, Zuko. You’re a true fan, you know that?”

“Hm,” Zuko said, looking faintly amused. He snapped his fingers at the sink full of dirty dishes. “Keep washing, I don’t want to be here all night.”

“Okay, bossy.” Sokka picked up another plate. “Hey,” he said, spraying it down with water, “do you want to get boba after we close? This new place opened up down the street and I’ve been dying to go.”

He handed the plate over to Zuko and glanced at his wide smile.

“Sure,” Zuko said, and Sokka couldn’t help but grin back.

“There you two are,” said a voice behind them, and they both turned to see Iroh approaching. He smiled, hands clasped neatly in front of him. “You were so quiet back here I thought maybe you had slipped out when I wasn’t looking.”

“Sorry, Uncle,” Zuko said, picking up a dry rag and wiping his hands off on it. “Do you need help out front?”

“No need to apologize,” Iroh said. “It’s still quite slow. But we did just have a pretty young lady come in. She’s asking for you, Sokka.”

Sokka frowned. Iroh knew both Katara and Toph, and he couldn’t think of any other girl that would come to visit him. He glanced at Zuko, who looked just as puzzled as he did. 

“Weird,” Sokka said, following Iroh as he turned and led the way back towards the front. Zuko fell into step beside him. “Did she tell you her name?”

“No,” Iroh said. He pulled aside the curtain, stepping back to let Sokka and Zuko through. “But I think you will be quite happy to see her.”

Sokka slipped out into the front of the shop and glanced around. It was late, and most of their customers were gone by now except for Jinpa and Fung hunched over the Pai Sho table. Through the windows Sokka could see snow falling- it had started just a few days ago, welcoming December with frosty arms. 

Sokka turned and his gaze caught on someone standing on the other side of the counter. His heart leapt into his throat, and he felt a massive grin split his face. “Suki!”

“Hi, Sokka,” Suki said, smiling as Sokka ran around the counter. She threw her arms around Sokka’s neck when he rushed forward to hug her. Sokka buried his face in her shoulder, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of her woodsy perfume, and tightened his grip to lift her up off her feet and twirl her around. Suki laughed, bright and loud, as Sokka carefully set her back down.

“It’s good to see you, too,” she said, stepping back and taking his hands in both of hers.

Sokka’s gaze swept over her face, drinking it in. He hadn’t seen her in person since September, and they hadn’t spoken much in the last few weeks except for a couple of quick texts here and there. Sokka hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until right this second, and it suddenly felt like a physical ache in his chest. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you weren’t supposed to get back until next week!”

“I switched the date for my chem final so I could catch an early flight back.” Suki’s hair was shorter than it had been last summer, half tied back to keep it out of her face. “I wanted to surprise you. Katara said you’d be here.”

Sokka shook his head, still trying to process that Suki was back, that she was _here_. “Consider me surprised,” he said. He squeezed Suki’s hand, softening his smile. “You look great,” he said, because she did; her brown eyes were bright and happy, and despite the snow outside it looked as though she’d been spending a lot of time in the sun. 

“So do you,” Suki said. They both looked at each other for a minute, hands clasped tightly, just soaking in the fact that they were both together again. 

Finally, Sokka dragged his gaze away long enough to glance over his shoulder. Iroh had disappeared back into the kitchen, but Zuko was standing behind the counter, staring at the two of them. When Sokka met his gaze, Zuko’s expression was blank.

“Hey,” Sokka said. He let go of one of Suki’s hands to drag her closer to the counter. “Hey, Suki, do you remember Zuko? He went to high school with us!”

Suki’s fingers tightened around Sokka’s. “Yes, I do,” she said. Her voice was marginally more subdued now. “Katara mentioned that you worked with him.”

Sokka held back a wince, hoping that Katara hadn’t said anything _else_ about Zuko. “Yeah,” he said, “but he’s really cool now! Zuko, this is Suki, I don’t know how well you remember her.”

Zuko’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

Sokka tugged on Suki’s arm. “What are you doing tonight? We close in half an hour, and then we were going to get boba, you should totally come with us!”

“Actually,” Zuko said before Suki could respond. Sokka couldn’t really figure out his expression, which was weird because he’d gotten pretty good at reading Zuko over the past few weeks. “Uncle is staying behind tonight. We can close by ourselves if you want to leave early.”

Sokka blinked. “But we were going to get boba.”

“I forgot that I have an assignment I need to do for class,” Zuko said. “You two go ahead.”

Suki touched Sokka’s arm, drawing his attention back to her. “I’m starving,” she said. “Can we go to the diner?”

“Of course.” Sokka glanced back at Zuko to find that the other boy had turned to the pastry case, ducking his head to reach in and start pulling the leftover desserts out. “Have you seen the others yet? How long are you going to be here?” 

“No, I wanted to see you, first,” Suki said, and then grinned. “Don’t tell them, they’ll accuse me of favoritism. I don’t have to go back until after New Year’s.” 

Sokka felt another smile growing on his face. “That’s like, a whole month!” 

“Yes, and I hope you cleared your calendar to hang out with me, because you owe me a Mario Kart rematch.”

“My calendar is always clear for you, Suks.” Sokka squeezed her hand again and then let go, reaching back to untie his apron. “I’m going to go let Iroh know that I’m heading out.”

“He knows,” Zuko said, still half-hidden behind the glass pastry case. He pulled out the almost-empty tray of tea cookies and slid it onto the counter. “You’re good to go.”

“Cool,” Sokka said. He pulled his apron up and over his head, folding it. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“No.” Zuko still wasn’t looking at him. Sokka frowned, but he didn’t want to ask what was up in front of Suki.

“Oh,” Sokka said.

“I’ll take your apron,” Zuko said.

Sokka placed it carefully on the counter. “Thanks.”

Zuko didn’t answer. He picked up the empty tray and the apron and turned away, disappearing through the curtain.

Sokka almost made a move to go after him, but then Suki grabbed his elbow. “Sokka, if I don’t have a shitty burger in front of me in the next ten minutes, I think I’m going to literally die.”

Sokka laughed. “We don’t want that,” he said, pulling her away. He snagged his jacket off of one of the hooks by the door, slipping it over his shoulders. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I know,” Suki said with a smile. “I think we have a lot to catch up on.”

Sokka grinned as he pulled open the front door for her, bell tinkling overhead. “You have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey... how y'all doin... sorry about the whole yue thing...
> 
> Also, in this household we LOVE and RESPECT Suki. This is NOT a Suki-bashing fic. Suki and Sokka have a wonderful relationship outside of their romantic one, and it will receive LOVE and ATTENTION from me. 
> 
> Thank you for the overwhelming response to the last chapter!! I'm so, so glad so many of you are enjoying this. Thank you for the comments and kudos :')
> 
> Also, more incredible fanart!!! Please check out this drawing of Zuko and Aang at the park with Appa from @terracyte on Tumblr!! https://terracyte.tumblr.com/post/623310009309315072/a-scene-from-chapter-four-of-argentoswans. Thank you all so much for the fanart, I love seeing all of your amazing work!
> 
> Have a good day <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the end note for content warnings!

Zuko bent low over the order form he was filling out. The speakers were playing upbeat, pleasant lute music, the shop was full of chatting customers, and distantly he could hear Sokka’s laugh, loud above it all.

Zuko wished it would all shut up.

He glanced at the list his uncle had given him, squinting to decipher the old man’s scratchy handwriting. He worked at it for several long seconds before grunting and throwing his pen down on the counter. He gripped his hair with both hands, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down. 

The day had started off shitty and had gotten even shittier as it had gone on. Zuko had woken up with a nasty cold, with scratchy eyes and a sore throat and a ridiculously persistent sneeze. Iroh had tried to get Zuko to stay in bed, but Zuko had insisted on coming in, which had led to shitty event number two of the day- he was scheduled to work with Sokka.

Normally, Zuko really enjoyed working with Sokka. But now working with Sokka meant working with Suki, too, because the two of them were basically joined at the hip. Even Iroh had taken a liking to Suki; he had given her free reign of the shop, meaning she was able to pop into the kitchen at any time to visit. 

Which she did. A lot.

Zuko felt bad about not liking her, he _really_ did, because it was clear that Sokka liked her a whole lot. Zuko hadn’t realized just how close the two of them were (and wasn’t that stupid, because Sokka barely knew Zuko, and he and Suki had years of history between them, so there wasn’t even any comparison to make). They talked constantly, enjoying a steady flow of conversation that Zuko had never and would never be able to maintain. Suki was funny, and cracked jokes nearly as often as Sokka did, and made him laugh harder than Zuko had ever heard him laugh.

Suki was pretty, too. It was easy to tell what Sokka saw in her. 

Zuko hadn’t spoken to her very much. He had become an expert at finding odd jobs to do around the shop whenever she dropped by, because it was abundantly clear that the two of them were eager for alone time. They hadn’t seen each other for months, of course they would need time to themselves to catch up. Zuko would respect that, even if it meant he had to polish the Pai Sho table three times a day.

Zuko cradled his head in his hands and stared down at the order form. He had a headache now, sharp and pounding against his skull. He took a deep, raspy breath, wishing he could lay down for just a second.

“Zuko?”

Zuko looked up. It was Aang, blinking at Zuko from under his red beanie. He looked vaguely concerned. 

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Zuko straightened up, grabbing his pen. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” Aang said. “I just wanted to come say hi.”

“Hi.” 

Aang took a step closer. Behind him, Zuko heard Sokka laughing again, and felt his headache pound especially hard against his temple. 

“You don’t look that great,” Aang said. “Why don’t you come sit down with us for a little bit?”

“I need to fill out this order form for uncle.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind if you take a little break!”

“It’s okay, really.”

“Just for a few minutes-”

“I’m _fine_ , Aang!” Zuko snapped.

Aang blinked, looking startled, and Zuko felt an immediate and overwhelming flush of shame.

He sighed, dropping the pen again. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Thank you for your concern. I guess I’m not feeling all that great.”

“Is it the weather?” Aang grimaced sympathetically. “I get sick when it snows sometimes, too.”

“That must be it,” Zuko said, feeling tired all of a sudden.

Aang rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, chewing on his bottom lip. He looked impossibly young. Sometimes it felt like there were more than three years between them.

“So, do you want to come and sit down for a few minutes?” Aang asked. “I don’t know if you’ve talked to Suki that much yet, but she’s really cool!” 

God, this headache was going to kill him. “That’s okay,” Zuko said. He tried to smile at Aang. “I think I just need some quiet right now. Thank you, though.”

“Alright,” Aang said. “Let us know if you need anything!” 

Zuko watched him go back to his table, and then sighed. He needed to get a better grip on himself. Aang had no reason to be so nice to him, yet Zuko was letting his frustrations get the best of him. 

Zuko rubbed his eyes. Maybe he would save the order form for tomorrow; it didn’t _really_ need to be finished today. Maybe if Zuko asked, Uncle would let him lie down in his office for a few minutes. Just until his head stopped pounding.

“What’s this I hear about you being sick?”

Zuko bit back a groan. He lifted his head to look at Sokka, whose apron was hanging loose around his neck, as though he’d gotten halfway through taking it off and then given up. Zuko, who normally felt elated when Sokka stepped away from his friends just to speak privately with him, wished fervently to any god that was out there that Sokka would just _leave him alone_. 

“I’m fine,” Zuko said.

“Are you sure?” Sokka quirked an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing on his lips. “Because as your coworker and the first person in the line of fire, I think you’ve legally got to tell me if you’re contagious.” 

“I would leave before it got that bad.”

Sokka’s smile slipped off his face. _Good_ , a tiny, vindictive voice in Zuko’s head said. Zuko felt suddenly nauseous.

“No,” Sokka said, “I didn’t mean- I was joking.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Are you alright?” Sokka asked, twisting to fully face Zuko.

“I’m fine,” Zuko repeated. He gazed at Sokka’s chest, carefully not meeting his eyes. 

Sokka shook his head. “No, Aang was right, you don’t look that good.” He reached behind him to retie his apron, tightening it around his waist. “I’m so sorry I’ve just been sitting around, I’ll come back and help.”

“No,” Zuko said, too sharp. It made Sokka pause, and Zuko took a deep breath. “No. You’re fine. Go hang out with your friends.” 

“Zuko, no offense, but you look like shit,” Sokka said. 

“I always look like shit.”

Sokka narrowed his eyes. _There it is._

“Okay, now you’re just being stubborn on purpose.” 

“Oh, is that what I’m doing?” Zuko scowled. “Thanks so much for letting me know.”

“Dude, what is your problem?”

Zuko grit his teeth. “I don’t have a problem!”

Sokka crossed his arms. He was wearing that stupid shark’s tooth earring again. Zuko wanted to rip it out. 

“Just because you’re in a bad mood, it doesn’t mean you get to take it out on everyone else,” Sokka said. 

“Then maybe _everyone else_ should just leave me alone.”

“Is everything alright?” It was Suki, of course it was Suki, coming up alongside Sokka and touching his arm. Sokka’s shoulders relaxed as he looked down at her. Zuko felt like he was going to throw up.

He snatched up the order form off the counter. “I have to give this to Uncle,” he said, and turned to walk quickly back into the kitchen.

He made a beeline for Iroh’s office door, which was slightly ajar. Zuko slipped in, carefully shutting it behind him. He took a moment to stare at the dark wood of the door, taking several long, slow breaths.

“Hello, nephew. To what do I owe this surprise visit?”

Zuko spun around. Iroh was sitting in his armchair, a notebook in his lap and a cup of tea steaming in his hand. He peered up at Zuko through his reading glasses, a slight frown on his face.

Zuko curled his fingers into the paper in his hand, crinkling it. “Here’s the order form,” he said, walking across the room and thrusting it towards his uncle.

“Ah,” Iroh said, taking the paper. He placed it in his lap, running a hand across it to smooth it. “Thank you very much, Zuko.” Iroh looked it over for a moment, and then looked up, eyebrows raised. “Not that I don’t appreciate your help, but is there any particular reason only the first three lines are filled out?”

Zuko blinked. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll go finish it.” 

Iroh grunted as he stood up. Zuko didn’t move as his uncle approached him, as he reached up to press the back of his hand to Zuko’s forehead. Iroh’s skin was cold, and Zuko had to repress a shiver. 

“Zuko,” Iroh said, “you are ill.”

Zuko stepped away, yanking his forehead out of reach. “I’m fine,” he said. “I’m going to go take inventory.”

“You took inventory yesterday.”

“I’ll double check it.”

“I think it might be best if you go home,” Iroh said, and Zuko scowled.

“I’m _fine,_ Uncle,” he said, trying very hard to keep his voice even. “The afternoon rush hasn’t even come and-”

“Sokka is here if I need help.”

“Oh, okay,” Zuko said. His stomach was twisting, and for one horrible moment he thought he actually _was_ about to throw up. “I’ll just leave, then. Do you need me to come back tomorrow, or is Sokka finally going to take over as my replacement?”

Iroh’s frown deepened. “Zuko-”

“No, it’s fine,” Zuko said. “I can take a hint. I wouldn’t want me as an employee either. I mean, my own father didn’t want me, so why would I be wanted at a stupid tea shop?” 

“Zuko.” Iroh’s voice was sharp. He took off his reading glasses, dropping them down on the coffee table. “I recommend that you go home before you say something you regret.”

Zuko curled his fingers into fists. “Right,” he said. “Right, thanks for the advice, Uncle, you’re still as wise as ever. You know, I’m really tired of everyone always looking at me like I’m about to snap. You’ve all just been waiting for me to fuck up, haven’t you?”

“ _Zuko_ -”

“It’s fine, I’m leaving.” Zuko backed towards the door, carefully not looking at his uncle, because he didn’t think he would be able to bear seeing the disappointment there. “Sorry if I said something _regretful_.” 

Zuko left the office door hanging wide open behind him. He ripped his apron off as he stalked across the kitchen, throwing it in the direction of the laundry bin and falling short by several feet. He pushed through the curtain, eyes fixed on the front door and not on anything or anyone else in the space.

Zuko was snatching up his winter jacket from the coat stand when a voice said, “Zuko!”

“I’m leaving,” Zuko said without looking at Sokka. “Ask Iroh if you need something.”

He shoved himself into his coat. He felt someone grab his elbow, and he turned to glare at Sokka.

“Zuko,” Sokka said. He was frowning, eyebrows furrowed with a kind of desperate confusion. For a moment, Zuko’s chest ached, but he couldn’t tell if it was from guilt or sickness. “Seriously, are you okay?”

Zuko swallowed, bracing himself, and then yanked his arm away. “For the last _fucking_ time, I’m fine _,_ ” he said. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled it open, making the bells clink harshly. “Go back to your friends and _leave me alone_.”

He didn’t look back at Sokka as he left. He didn’t want to see the anger on his face, didn’t want to see just how fully Zuko had fulfilled everyone’s expectations of him. It had taken a few months, but Zuko had finally snapped, and now they all knew that he hadn’t actually changed at all, that Katara had been right about him the whole fucking time. On the bright side, Sokka would be able to spend as much time as he wanted with Suki without Zuko hanging around to distract them.

Zuko stomped all the way home, footsteps heavy in the snow. He didn’t bother taking out his gloves or his scarf. He liked the sting of the chill.

X X X X X

Zuko was curled up in bed, back pressed into the corner of his wall. He sniffled, a gross, wet sound, and scowled down at his nails. 

He scratched at the red polish. Chunks of dried paint flaked off, leaving them chipped and kind of sad-looking. He scratched again, digging into the polish, and cursed himself for not having the foresight to get nail polish remover earlier. What had he been thinking, letting Sokka do this? It was completely unprofessional, and definitely not something a grown man should have. If Zuko’s father could see him, he would probably kill him on the spot.

Zuko jumped when there was a loud knock on his door. Before he could snap at his uncle to leave him alone, it flung open, and suddenly there was a very short, very angry blind girl in his room.

“Hey, asshole.” Toph slammed the door shut behind her.

Zuko pressed himself further against the wall, watching her warily. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, let’s see.” Toph strode across the room, reaching out to feel for a seat and finding his desk chair on the first try. She sat down and then crossed her arms, glaring at Zuko. “Aang said you were sick, so Sokka went to check on you and you yelled at him. Then you went back to talk to Iroh, and presumably yelled at him, too, because he looked all sad when he came out to find Sokka, and then you left in the middle of your shift and yelled at Sokka _again_ on the way out. So I’m left wondering, why the fuck are you yelling at everyone?”

Zuko dropped his chin onto his knees, hugging his legs close. “I didn’t yell.”

“I’m blind. You know what that means?” Toph tapped her ear. “Supersonic hearing, bitch.”

Zuko tipped his head back against the wall. He felt warm all over, and weirdly sweaty. “Would you just leave me alone?” 

“Nice try, dweeb,” Toph said. “Seriously, what’s up?”

Zuko’s first instinct was to get mad at her, too, but every part of his body felt sore, and all he really wanted to do was take a nap. He curled up tighter, feeling distinctly miserable.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t- I don’t want to be angry, I swear- god knows I’ve been angry enough for a lifetime- but I just can’t help it.”

Toph stared above Zuko’s head. “That’s kind of a shitty excuse, Zuko.”

Zuko hunched lower. “I know.”

Toph kicked her feet up on Zuko’s bed, wiggling her toes through her socks. “Sokka’s been sulking,” she said. “So if you could quit ignoring him so he shuts up about it, that would be great.”

“I’m not ignoring him.”

“Really?” Toph raised her eyebrows. “Because he said that you literally changed the schedule so your shifts stopped overlapping.” 

Zuko reached out to pick at a stray thread on his blanket. “I needed more time to study.”

“Bullshit.”

“Look,” Zuko said with a scowl, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Toph dropped her feet back to the ground with a _thud_ and leaned towards Zuko. “Listen, dork,” she said, “you’re my friend. And when it comes to my friends, I leave the sugar-coating to Katara.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Is this about Suki?”

“What?”

“She says you won’t talk to her,” Toph said, “and you haven’t hung out with us at all since she got here. This is about Suki, isn’t it?”

“No,” Zuko said, “no, I- Suki’s fine, I’ve just been busy, and-”

Toph’s nostrils flared. “Don’t lie to me, Zuko,” she said. “I can tell when you’re lying.” 

“Fine,” Zuko snapped. God, he didn’t feel like doing this right now. “I don’t like Suki. Are you happy? Now please leave, because if you’re picking sides I know it’s not going to be mine.”

Toph stood up. She leaned across the bed, mouth pressed into a thin, flat line, and punched him in the arm. 

Really hard.

“Ouch!” Zuko rubbed his arm and glared at her. How did she even have such good aim? “What the fuck, Toph!” 

“You’re being an idiot,” Toph said, dropping back into her seat. “I’m not picking any sides because there aren’t any sides. I think we both know why you don’t like Suki, and it isn’t because of anything she did.”

Zuko clenched his teeth tightly. “Really.”

“ _Really_.” 

Zuko looked away. He knew that Toph couldn’t see him, but he still felt pinned by her gaze, trapped by her and the blankets pooled around him. It was stifling in his room. He should have cracked a window. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Zuko,” Toph said. “I’m literally blind, and I can still tell that you have a crush on Sokka.”

Zuko closed his eyes. He should deny it, speak up in his own defense and tell Toph that that was ridiculous, that Sokka was just his coworker, his friend at best if Zuko hadn’t fucked that up today. 

But Zuko didn’t want to deny it. He was tired, and Toph would see through any of his lies, anyways. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “He’s with Suki.”

“Sokka and Suki are just friends.”

Zuko shook his head. “Sokka said he was going to ask her out again.”

“He did _what_?”

“And anyways,” Zuko said, “Sokka’s straight. It’s not like I would have a shot even if Suki wasn’t around.”

“Okay,” Toph said. “I firmly believe that no one is one hundred percent straight.”

“Sokka has made it clear that he is very interested in girls.” Zuko smiled a little bitterly. “Besides, even if he was interested in a guy, it wouldn’t be me. I was awful to him-”

“In high school,” Toph said, rolling her eyes.

“Sokka can do so much better than me,” Zuko said, raising his voice a little louder to talk over Toph. “I’m- I know you can’t see it, but I, I have this burn scar-”

“I know about your scar,” Toph said with a scowl. “I’ve heard from very reliable sources that it makees you look hot and mysterious.”

Zuko’s cheeks flushed. “It’s ugly,” he said. “Whoever said that lied to you. Anyways, it’s not just that. Sokka is- he’s funny, and kind, and really fucking smart. He’s nothing like me. It would never work.”

“Zuko,” Toph said, voice tense in a way that Zuko knew meant she was holding back her temper, “I really, really think you should just talk to Sokka about this.” 

“You know, contrary to popular belief, Toph, I don’t actually _enjoy_ being humiliated.” 

Toph pursed her lips. She sat back in her seat, arms crossed tightly. “Well,” she said. “It sounds like you have all of this reasoned out in your head already. Did you write a little diary entry with a list of all the reasons Sokka should hate you? Did you draw little hearts around it?”

Zuko curled his fists, but didn’t rise to the bait. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“You’re really going to give up just like that?”

“Toph,” Zuko said, hugging his legs tighter. “I’m already fighting with everyone else. I really don’t want to fight with you, too.”

He saw the indecision playing out on Toph’s face, and then she grunted. “Fine,” she said. “You’re sick and it’s kind of bumming me out, so I’m going to drop it. I am going to give you one more piece of advice, though, free of charge.” She leaned forward. Her eyes were two small, dark stormclouds. “You need to figure out your own worth, Zuko, or you will continue making yourself miserable for the rest of your fucking life.”

She stood up and walked towards the door, leaving Zuko hunched in bed, staring at nothing. “I’ll come check in again tomorrow,” Toph said. “Stay in bed and get some rest. You need to get better so I can kick your ass.”

“For what?” Zuko’s voice came out hoarse.

Toph paused halfway out the door. Without turning around to face Zuko, she said, “For saying all that _bullshit_ about my friend.”

She slammed the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, Zuko dropped his head to his knees, desperately trying to control his breathing.

It took an hour for his hands to stop shaking.

X X X X X

Zuko stayed in bed for three days before he decided that he couldn’t take it any longer.

Toph came the next day as she’d promised, and Zuko didn’t ask about Sokka, and Toph didn’t mention their fight from the previous day. She didn’t stay long, but she had been a lot less angry than before. Zuko had been grateful for her visit. He’d been a lot more grateful when she had left. 

After that he didn’t really talk to anyone, least of all his uncle. The few times Iroh tried to drop by, Zuko feigned sleep until the old man stopped trying. Fresh cups of tea and warm meals appeared outside his door like clockwork, but Zuko hadn’t spoken a word to him since he had yelled at him. 

After the first day, Zuko turned his phone off. He had four missed calls from Sokka, but he wasn’t in the mood to try and explain his behavior. Besides, maybe some space would give Zuko time to squash out his stupid feelings, and Sokka would have more time to spend with Suki. It was a win-win. 

When his symptoms dwindled down to just exhaustion and a lingering cough, Zuko decided to go back to work. He didn’t tell his uncle, and when he showed up for his morning shift, Iroh didn’t say anything. Zuko had hardly been able to look at him as the man had simply nodded in greeting and disappeared into his office.

There wasn’t a single relationship that Zuko couldn’t ruin, apparently. 

On Zuko’s second day back, Iroh had to leave early to get to the bank while it was still open, leaving Zuko to close on his own. Zuko didn’t mind. He had closed the shop so many times he could do it on autopilot, and he found the work calming, if a bit monotonous. 

He cleaned out the pastry case, making sure to get the crumbs in the back corners, which Sokka always forgot to do. He went around to each of the tables and wiped them down, paying special attention to the Pai Sho table. He swept the front of the shop clean, and by the time he was finished his back was aching and his nose was running. Maybe he should have spent a few more days resting. 

Zuko wiped his nose on his sleeve as he carried the broom back into the kitchen. All he had to do was finish up the dishes and then he’d be able to head home. He wasn’t looking forward to the walk back in the snow, but since his classes had ended for the semester he didn’t have anything else he needed to get done. He was planning on falling immediately into bed and staying there for a long, long time.

Zuko turned the hose on the first couple of plates, twisting his head away from the spray. He washed the crumbs off and then dunked it into the sanitized water. He was messier than he usually was, but quicker as well, and soon he’d made it halfway through the pile of dishes.

He paused when he heard the faint sound of the bells over the front door tinkling. He turned off the water and wiped off his hands, heading towards the curtain. He was certain he’d flipped the sign to ‘Closed,’ but sometimes people still got confused and tried to wander in after hours.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko said, pulling aside the curtain and stepping out, “we’re-”

He froze. The girl in front of him, who’d been spinning in a slow circle to look around the space, turned to face him.

“Hello, Zuzu,” Azula said, dark red lips twisting into a sharp smile. “I just love what you’ve done with the place! It’s very… quaint.”

Azula’s dark hair was pulled up into a sleek, perfect bun, and her shirt- a sheer red button-down with a dragon curled around her waist- definitely cost more than anything Zuko currently owned. 

Zuko stared at her long enough for her smile to widen into a smirk. “Azula,” he managed after a few moments. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area,” Azula said, heels clicking as she approached the counter and Zuko frozen in the doorway. “And I thought I would check in on my favorite uncle’s lovely little tea shop. You know, it’s the funniest thing- I walked past this place three times before I realized I’d missed it. You really should consider adding a little flair so it’s more appealing to customers.” 

“Uncle isn’t here.” Zuko didn’t have time to worry about how his voice grated against his throat on the way out. His head felt oddly light and even though he wanted to retreat back into the kitchen he couldn’t help but stare at Azula, trying to pick out all the changes from the last time he’d seen her. 

She looked older, much more mature. She moved with a coiled grace that Zuko had watched her hone throughout their childhood, leaning up against the counter to look down her sharp nose at Zuko. Her smile was uncannily similar to their mother’s. 

“Isn’t he,” Azula said. “Pity. I guess I’ll just have to settle for a chat with my dear brother, then!” Azula tilted her head to the side, lips turning down into the perfect expression of sympathy. “How have you been, Zuzu?”

Zuko inched away from the curtain, approaching Azula and the counter. “Fine.” 

“You know,” Azula said. She waved one sharp fingernail at him. “The dirty apron really is a good look on you. It’s no Uma Wang, of course, but it’s got a nice cinch. And-” Azula leaned across the counter and, too quick for Zuko to stop her, grabbed his wrist. “Would you look at this,” she said, splaying his fingers so she could see his nails. The red paint was still mostly there, chipped and peeling from where Zuko had tried unsuccessfully to scrape it off. 

Zuko yanked his hand away from Azula’s tight grip. “What do you want, Azula,” he said. He could feel his heart in his chest, pounding against his rib-cage, and he _hated_ it. Azula could probably hear it.

“I told you, I just wanted to chat! It’s been far too long- what, two years?”

“Three.”

“Oh, dear.” Azula’s face crumpled into a frown. “I’m sorry, Zuko, I’ve been so busy with university I haven’t found the time to see you until now. Although from what I hear, you’ve been almost as busy as I have. How’s online school?”

Zuko grit his teeth. He pressed his hip into the counter hard enough to bruise. “It’s fine.”

“A little birdie told me that you’re set to graduate next semester. A year early- I didn’t know you had it in you, Zuzu, congratulations.” 

Azula waited. Zuko met her gaze steadily. Her eyes were the same deep amber as their father’s.

Zuko said, “Thank you.”

Azula’s lips quirked upwards. “Oh, Zuko,” she said. “I _do_ miss having you around. You’ve missed some of the most delicious gossip. Ty Lee wants to be a yoga instructor, can you imagine? And Mai has a gorgeous new boyfriend, have you heard?”

“Yes,” Zuko said, “I have.” 

“His name is Chao, he’s a junior financial advisor for father’s company,” Azula said. “Father’s been very impressed with him so far. So has Mai.” She tapped her nail against the counter with a wide smile. “I advised her not to show you any pictures of him. We wouldn’t want you getting any funny little ideas in your head to try and steal him away from her, do we, Zuzu?” 

Zuko dropped his gaze. “What do you want, Azula?” he repeated.

“Do I always have to want something?” Zuko didn’t respond, and Azula sighed. “Oh, alright. Father would like you to come home on Christmas.”

Zuko felt the floor wobble underneath him. “What?”

“Father would like-”

“Why?”

“Oh, Zuko.” Azula’s face twisted with pity. “You’re family.”

“That hasn’t been enough before.”

Azula clucked in the back of her throat. “Don’t be difficult,” she said. “You’re almost finished with your cute little online degree, and Father wants to see you again. Wouldn’t it be nice, having the whole family back together for the holiday?”

Zuko said, “What about Uncle?” 

“Iroh hasn’t expressed any interest in family bonding in the past,” Azula said. “But if he wishes to come, he is most certainly welcome.” 

Zuko stared hard at Azula’s shoulder. His father wanted him home for Christmas? Zuko had been banned from holidays for the last three years. He hadn’t expected to be invited back until _after_ he finished his degree.

“I can tell that this is difficult for you,” Azula said, her voice cutting through Zuko’s thoughts. He met her gaze again, and saw a quiet kind of amusement reflected back at him. “I’ll let you think on it. Do consider it though, Zuzu. Father is eager to catch up.” 

She turned, the dragon woven into her shirt rippling around her like it was readying to strike. Zuko watched her cross the room, her heels sharp and loud against the wood. 

Azula opened the front door, and then paused. “Oh, a quick word of advice,” she called, glancing back at Zuko over her shoulder. “Get a new manicurist. Red isn’t your color.”

The bell chimed as the door swung shut behind her. 

Zuko took several deep breaths. He backed away from the counter, turning to slip through the curtain and disappear back into the relative safety of the kitchen. 

It was too quiet. Zuko reached up to grip his hair, pulling so hard it hurt. He could still hear Azula’s voice ringing in his ears, could see her reserved little smirk as she’d looked him over. It had been three years, but it only took seeing her again for just five minutes for Zuko to feel incredibly young and inexperienced, always inexperienced compared to her. She had only gotten more beautiful, more confident, and Zuko- 

Zuko knew what she’d seen when she’d looked at him. A pathetic mess wearing an apron stained with tea, still dripping with dish water, in the same fucking place he’d been three years ago. 

Frustrated, Zuko whirled around and kicked one of the metal shelves against the wall. It clanged loudly, rattling and knocking to the side, and one of the teacups he had carefully cleaned and dried and neatly stacked earlier toppled off the side. It fell to the floor with a crash, shattering on impact. Zuko wanted to scream. He didn’t. 

He crouched down and reached for one of the bigger shards of ceramic. He curled his fingers around it, too tight, only to immediately drop it again with a hiss of pain when it bit into his skin.

Zuko tugged his sweater down to cover his already bleeding hand. It stung, and made tears prick at Zuko's eyes. 

He shifted so he was kneeling over the broken cup.

He stayed that way for a long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: accidental self-harm; this story will not include any discussions/depictions of self-harm, but a character does accidentally cut themselves on a sharp object at the end of this chapter.
> 
> Sorry <3 
> 
> This was a bit of a shorter chapter because the next few are going to be Very Long, so I'm sorry this one was kind of just Zuko struggling! This story is turning into a slower burn than I had anticipated because I'm really enjoying fleshing out all of the characters and their relationships outside of just Zukka. Don't worry, I'm very impatient to start writing the mushier stuff, and it will be coming very soon.
> 
> Thank you, thank you for over 5,000 hits. That's literally wild. I appreciate all of your comments and kudos so much, and thank you to everyone that has shared this story with friends or helped promote it in some way. I'm very thankful for you <3
> 
> Stay safe and have an amazing day!


	9. Chapter 9

“And then he literally walked out the front door,” Sokka said. He jabbed his straw into the milkshake, scowling down at it. It looked way too chocolatey and delicious, and Sokka was annoyed because he couldn’t even enjoy it properly. “In the middle of his fucking shift. It was literally the first time in a week we’d been scheduled to work during the same time, and he just fucking _left_.”

“I know, Sokka,” Suki said. She was watching him as he talked, chin cradled in her hand. “I was there.”

“And he still won’t return any of my calls _or_ text me back, but he responds to _Aang_ when the kid sends him a picture of Appa sleeping? What the fuck!” 

“Yeah,” Suki said. “That’s really annoying.”

“I just wish he would tell me what I did to make him mad.” Sokka sat back in his seat, the plastic cover wrinkling behind him, and crossed his arms. He glared out the window at the cabbage guy, who was currently petting each of his vegetables like they were something precious. Oh, to be the cabbage guy; he seemed to have life figured out. 

Suki was silent for a moment. She drummed her fingers against the table, mouth quirked to the side in a thoughtful frown. Then she said, “Sokka, I think we need to talk.”

“We are talking.”

“No,” Suki said. “We need to talk about us.”

Sokka sat up straighter in his seat. “Oh,” he said. “Did I do something wrong?”

Suki smiled. Okay, good, that wasn’t the smile of someone who was pissed off at Sokka. “No,” she said. She reached out to grab the spoon in the milkshake, scooping up some of the chocolate fudge from the rim. “When I got back, you told me that you wanted to give our relationship another try.”

“Yeah,” Sokka said. “I totally understand if you still need time to think about it.”

“I’ve already thought about it. I want to know if _you’ve_ thought about it, though.”

Sokka frowned. “What?”

“Sokka,” Suki said, “why do you want to get back together with me?” 

Alright, now Sokka was confused. “Because I care about you,” he said.

“And I care about you.” Suki was still smiling that soft, indulgent smile, like she was leading up to something she wanted to deliver as gently as possible. “But why do you want to _date_ me?”

“Because,” Sokka said, flailing mentally for the right thing to say, because he couldn’t fuck this up, “because you’re- I’m- we’re us! We work well together.”

“We work well together as friends, Sokka,” Suki said. She raised her eyebrows at him. “Do you remember what it was like when we were dating?”

Sokka narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying you didn’t like dating me?”

“No,” Suki said, “but, Sokka, all we ever did was argue. There’s a reason we never lasted more than a few weeks at a time.”

Sokka shrugged, feeling suddenly sulky. Maybe they had fought a little more than other couples did, but he had always looked back on their relationship with fondness. “It wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“It was.” She always had been too blunt. “And,” Suki said, and then hesitated, and _that_ made Sokka pause because Suki never hesitated about anything. “I think you might be interested in someone else.”

Sokka pulled a face. “What?” 

“Sokka,” Suki said, “you invited me here to split a chocolate cake shake, which you only order when you’re upset about your romantic life.” 

“It’s not my fault I’m a stress-eater, you know my childhood wasn’t-”

“The only person you’ve talked about the entire time is Zuko.”

Sokka stopped. He stared at her. “No,” he said. “That’s not true.”

“He’s the only thing you’ve talked about for days, Sokka,” Suki said. She reached up to brush her short hair behind her ear, smiling apologetically. 

“Because I’m mad at him,” Sokka said, trying to compute what Suki had just said. She thought Sokka had a crush on _Zuko_? The Zuko who had been practically spitting fire at Sokka for the past week? “Or he’s mad at me, or- we’re both mad at each other and it’s annoying because I work with him, alright? That’s it!”

Suki just watched him. She knew him too well, and it was like Sokka could see his own reflection in her dark eyes. He felt panic rising in his throat. 

“Zuko’s my friend,” he said. “There’s nothing between us.” 

“Okay,” Suki said. “I might be wrong. I don’t know Zuko well and I don’t know what your friendship is like with him. But face it, Sokka; we’re much better off as friends than we are in a relationship.”

Sokka dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “Damn it, Suki,” he said. “Why do you _always_ get to be the one doing the dumping?”

“Sorry, did you want to take this one?”

Sokka raised his head back up to look at her. It made his chest hurt, but in a different way than it had before. He’d clung to the idea of them for so many years it was impossible not to look at her and see two Sukis- the Suki from high school, who had pulled Sokka coyly under the bleachers by the football field and showed him things that had made his toes curl, and the Suki he had known for so much longer, his brilliant, beautiful friend, who shouted at him over World of Warcraft and sometimes forgot to respond to him for weeks on end. 

He loved Suki, he loved her so much it was painful, but looking at her now didn’t feel the same as it had at the beginning.

Sokka took a long, slow breath.“It’s really over, isn’t it.”

“Oh, Sokka.” Suki reached out for his hand, palm up. Sokka grabbed her fingers, holding on tight. “I love you, you know that?”

Sokka swallowed. None of their break ups had made him this emotional before. “I love you, too,” he said in a tight voice. 

Suki squeezed his fingers. “If we try to force this we’ll end up hating each other,” she said. “I don’t want that. I want you around for the rest of my life, stupid.” 

A small part of Sokka had always assumed that he and Suki would grow old together. Maybe they still could, in a way. “I do, too,” Sokka said.  
“Friends?”

Sokka felt something lift off of his chest. “Always.” 

Suki smiled and let go of his hand. “Good,” she said. She picked up the spoon again, scooping some milkshake up. “So tell me that story about Toph scamming that street magician again.” 

Sokka laughed and reached up to wipe at his eyes, grateful that Suki wasn’t making fun of him for it. “It was actually super badass, but Katara was pissed,” he said, reaching out to drag the milkshake out from Suki.

He should have ordered _two_ heartbreak shakes. 

X X X X X

“I’m sorry about Suki,” Katara said, leaning down to hand Sokka a plate with a sympathetic frown.

Sokka took it with a sigh. “It’s fine,” he said. “She made some good points.”

“Like what?” Aang asked.

Sokka poked at his chow mein with his chopsticks. As soon as he and Suki had finished at the diner, Sokka had called an emergency Chinese take-out party at his apartment. Sokka hated being alone after getting bad news. It resulted in way too much thinking, and everyone had pooled their money to pay for Sokka’s share, so the free food was a plus. He really should get broken up with more often.

“She said that all we do is fight when we’re dating.”

Toph snorted from the couch. When Sokka glared up at her, she said, “What? She’s not wrong.” 

“I thought you and Suki had a lovely relationship,” Katara said as she sat down beside Aang, shooting Toph a disapproving look that didn’t even matter because she wouldn’t see it. “I do think you’re better off friends, though. Most of the time being someone’s friend works out better than dating them.”

Aang looked up from his rice. “But not all the time,” he said. “Right?”

“No, it makes sense,” Sokka said. “She said that if we kept trying to make it work we would end up hating each other. I don’t think I would go _that_ far, but maybe it is best to just call it off for good.” He plucked up a piece of tofu and then dropped it back onto his plate. “She said some other stuff, too.”

“Bad sex?” Toph asked. Katara actually elbowed her, which was a bold move when Toph was holding chopsticks and was entirely willing to use them. “Ow!” 

Sokka rolled his eyes. “No,” he said. “She said- you guys are going to laugh when you hear this- she thinks that I have a crush on _Zuko_.”

He waited. No one said anything.

“Weird, right?” Sokka twisted to look back at them on the couch, waiting for a reaction similar to the one he had had earlier, because really, _Zuko_? 

“Yeah,” Aang said, trying and failing to meet Sokka’s gaze. “So weird.”

Sokka narrowed his eyes. “What.”

“Sokka, do you want more eggrolls?” Katara asked.

“No,” Sokka said. He put his plate down on the ground next to him. “You guys are being weird. What is it?” 

“Do you have an actual cabbage in your head instead of a brain?” Toph asked. 

Sokka scowled at her. “Not you.” He turned to Aang and Katara. Neither of them were looking at him. “ _What?_ ” 

Aang hesitated. He reached up to scratch his neck, the dark ink on his arms stark black against his skin. “It’s just,” he said, “you and Zuko are really close.”

“Close _friends_. Why is that so hard for everyone to grasp?”

“You spend a lot of time with him,” Aang said.

“That doesn’t mean I want to _date_ him,” Sokka snapped. “I like girls!”

“Sokka,” Katara said in her gentle mom-voice. “It’s okay to like both genders, you know.”

“Yeah, I know what fucking bisexuality is, Katara.” Sokka jumped to his feet, adrenaline rushing too fast for him to stay seated. “Suki’s bisexual. I think it’s great. That doesn’t mean that I swing both ways, too!” 

“I want to swing a bat into your face,” Toph said.

Sokka whirled on her. “Would you be helpful for just _once_?” 

“You want me to be helpful? Fine.” Toph dropped her plate into her lap, spilling a few noodles onto the couch as she leaned forward to point at him. “Get that stupid fucking internalized homophobia out of here and address your own feelings.” 

“I don’t have a crush on Zuko!” Sokka shouted.

Toph looked ready to yell right back at him, but Katara spoke before she could. “You know, I think Sokka’s right,” she said. “There isn’t anything to like about Zuko, anyways.”

Sokka felt his nostrils flare. “Don’t start this again,” he said, glaring at his sister. “There are _tons_ of things to like about Zuko! He’s very nice and super thoughtful, and sometimes he says stupid things but in a really funny way, and he’s super talented and smart and not that good at math but that’s okay because I’m good enough for both of us, and he has a stupidly perfect complexion and I-” Sokka paused. He blinked, staring down at Katara as she gave him a small smile. 

“Oh, my god,” he said. “I have a crush on Zuko.”

Toph exhaled loudly, tipping her head back against the sofa cushions. “Finally.”

Sokka walked over to the coffee table and sat down on it. The wood creaked under his weight. “I have a crush on Zuko,” he repeated, feeling the words in his mouth. They sounded more right than anything else he’d said today.

“We know,” Katara said. 

Sokka stared at her, mouth open in shock. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“We didn’t want you to freak out,” Aang said, apologetic. 

“So you just let me embarrass myself with Suki instead?” Sokka dropped his face into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. “This is a mess.”

“Why?” Aang asked.

“Well, for one thing,” Sokka said, “I’m pretty sure Zuko’s exclusively into girls. Also, he hasn’t spoken to me in _days_.” 

“Hold up,” Toph said. Sokka looked up at her. She looked a little less angry than she had before. “How do you know he’s only into girls? Have you asked him?”

“Well, no,” Sokka said, “but he’s only ever dated women.”

“So have you,” Aang said.

Sokka thought this over. “Touché,” he said. He slouched his shoulders. “He still isn’t talking to me, though.” 

“You don’t have any idea what could have upset him?” Katara asked.

Sokka shook his head. He had spent days mulling it over, trying to pinpoint what he’d done wrong to piss Zuko off so badly, but he literally couldn’t think of anything. 

“Maybe,” he said, stomach dropping, “maybe he found out I have feelings for him and it weirded him out.”

“Zuko’s too oblivious for that,” Toph said. 

Sokka rubbed his eyes. God, he was so stupid. It was obvious now that Sokka had taken a moment to think about the possibility. It was easy to think about Zuko and his stupid floppy hair and his smile and the way he went bright red whenever anyone was nice to him and think _yes, I want that_. 

“You okay?” Katara asked.

Sokka frowned at her. “How are you okay with this? I thought you hated Zuko.”

“I didn’t _hate_ him,” Katara said. When Toph scoffed, she said, “Okay, fine, I did. But you’re my brother and I respect your decision, and I’ll always support you when-”

“Admit it,” Sokka said with a grin. “You like him, too!” 

“I do not,” Katara said. Sokka laughed, and she snapped, “I don’t! He’s just- not as much of a jerk as he could have been!” 

“Alright, we all love it when the sugar queen is wrong about something,” Toph said before Sokka could keep teasing his sister. “Now that you’ve finally figured it out, what are you going to do about it, doofus?”

Sokka’s smile slipped off his face. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t- I’ve never had feelings for a guy before. Are the rules different?”

“Great,” Toph said. “Now he’s not a stupid straight guy, he’s a stupid _bisexual_.”

“It’s just Zuko,” Katara said as Sokka glared at Toph. “You know him.”

“Yeah, I do,” Sokka said. “I know that he’s really pissed at me right now.” 

“He just needs some time,” Aang said. “I’m sure he’ll come around soon.”

“Yeah.” Sokka straightened up a little, feeling fresh determination bloom in his chest. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just keep trying. He can’t ignore me forever, right?”

X X X X X

Zuko absolutely could ignore Sokka forever.

Aside from the fact that Zuko flipped between the morning and afternoon shifts so quickly Sokka couldn’t pick out any discernible pattern, he had also developed a fun new habit of running errands for his uncle whenever he was scheduled at the same time as Sokka. He was so quiet that most of the time Sokka didn’t even notice him until he was slipping out the door again, which was a shame because Sokka had recently discovered that he really liked looking at Zuko. He hadn’t known how spoiled he had been when before when he’d been able to spend his work days watching Zuko clean or serve customers or… well, do anything.

Sokka felt like he was going through withdrawal.

He debated trying to talk to Iroh about it, but his boss had been uncharacteristically morose lately. He still smiled at Sokka and made small talk with his customers, but he was locking himself in his office more than usual and he’d asked Sokka to make a pot of tea for him a few days ago, which was a bad sign because even though Iroh would never say it to his face, Sokka was awful at making tea. 

Sokka was getting frustrated, so he decided to go with an approach he knew had at least some chance of success. 

There wasn’t any opera music playing when Sokka got to the shop. It took Zuko several seconds to notice him. That, or he was trying to not acknowledge Sokka for as long as possible.

“What do you want?” he asked when it became impossible to continue ignoring Sokka’s existence. He opened the oven door and bent to peek at what was inside.

Sokka stepped out of the doorway, moving into the kitchen. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, looking over the baking supplies spread out on the counter.

“And you couldn’t text me like a normal person?”

“See, I tried that,” Sokka said. “It’s weird, though; your phone must be off or something, because you haven’t responded in days.”

Zuko pulled a tray out of the oven and deposited it on the counter with a _clang_. “I must have missed it,” he said in a flat voice.

Sokka took a moment to look him over critically. He knew that Zuko had been sick earlier in the week, but he still didn’t look as though he’d fully recovered. There were faint circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in several days, and his shoulders were hunched a little too tightly. 

“Whatcha making?” Sokka asked, glancing at the small round pastries on the baking sheet. 

“Scones.” 

“Can I have one?”

“No.” 

Zuko picked up a metal bowl of white icing. He still hadn’t looked at Sokka, which was getting a little annoying. 

“That’s okay,” Sokka said. “Are you going to tell me what I did to make you mad?”

Zuko dipped a wooden spoon into the icing. “I’m not mad,” he said, lifting it to drizzle over the warm scones.

“Okay, so you just randomly decided you never wanted to speak to me again?”

That got a slight reaction out of him. Zuko’s frown was pinched. In another situation, the whole broody emo thing he had going on might have been cute.

“We’re speaking right now, Sokka,” he said.

Sokka crossed his arms. “I thought we were friends.”

Zuko’s hand stilled. He stared down at the half-iced scone, hair falling into his eyes.

“We are,” he said. 

“You haven’t been acting like it.”

Zuko set down the bowl and spoon, but didn’t lift his head. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology.” Sokka stepped closer. “I want to know if you’re okay.”

Zuko finally looked up. His mouth was pressed into a thin, flat line, but the anger didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Sokka seized on the first topic he could think of. “Hey,” he said, reaching out to take Zuko’s hand and examining his still somewhat red nails. “These are all chipped. I can redo them for you, if you want.”

Zuko yanked his hand away so quickly it made Sokka jump. Sokka stared as Zuko turned away from him, twisting until Sokka could only see the unburned side of his face.

“Sorry,” Zuko said. “I’m sorry.”

“Zuko, did something happen?”

Zuko opened his mouth and then closed it again. He swallowed. Sokka watched the motion of his throat. 

“My father wants me home for Christmas,” he said.

“Is that good or bad?”

Zuko took a short, shaky breath. “I don’t know,” he said.

Sokka hesitated. The scones smelled warm and inviting, their scent sticky sweet with maple syrup. Sokka’s hands twitched, instincts from years of consoling Katara and Aang telling him to reach out to Zuko, but he didn’t know if his touch would be wanted.

“Okay,” Sokka said. “Okay, that’s- we’ll figure it out, then. We’ll- Zuko-”

“I’m sorry,” Zuko said, dropping his face into his hands. His shoulders were shaking. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rude to you, I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay,” Sokka said. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out this time, from touching Zuko’s arm and saying, “Zuko. Hey, come here.”

Zuko didn’t move as Sokka drew him into an embrace, but he did turn to press his face into Sokka’s shoulder. Zuko was trembling hard enough for Sokka to feel it. Sokka’s chest felt tight.

“It’s okay,” Sokka murmured when Zuko’s breath stuttered. He gripped him tighter, curling his fingers into the back of Zuko’s sweater. “You’re okay, Zuko, it’ll be okay.”

Zuko was silent except for his labored breathing. Sokka held him for several long, quiet minutes. He dropped his hand, letting it wander across Zuko’s back, rubbing circles the way Sokka liked whenever he was upset. If he closed his eyes he could still feel ghosts of his mom’s hands, and then later Katara’s, drawing soothing circles against his skin to calm his tears. 

Finally, Zuko stopped shaking quite as much. He coughed, once, and then pulled away. Sokka reluctantly let him go.

“Sorry,” Zuko said, his voice raspy. His face was tired but dry.

“Don’t apologize,” Sokka said. “Are you alright?”

Zuko nodded. Sokka was about to let him know just how much he believed _that_ one when a voice behind them said, “Sokka, might I borrow my nephew for a moment?”

Sokka turned to look at Iroh. The man had arrived quietly and was now standing by the door to his office. He didn’t look particularly happy, but his expression was tender as he looked at his nephew. 

Sokka knew that Zuko would be in good hands. Still, he glanced back at him and raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Zuko nodded again. He sniffed, and then walked forward, slipping past Sokka to join his uncle in the office. The door shut behind them with a sharp click. 

Sokka stood motionless for a moment. He took a deep, shaky breath, and reached up to tug on his earring, running his thumb along the sharp point of the shark’s tooth.

When it became apparent that Zuko and Iroh’s conversation would last for awhile, Sokka turned away. He walked over to the scones, which Zuko hadn’t finished icing. Sokka picked up the metal bowl and grabbed the spoon. He scooped up some icing and turned to drizzle it onto the remaining scones.

It was harder than Zuko made it look. Where Zuko’s scones were draped in neat, even lines of icing, Sokka’s ended up clumped and patchy. He was grateful when he was done, and went to get a tray to arrange the pastries on. 

He glanced at Iroh’s still-closed office door on the way to the front of the shop. Ducking through the curtains, he walked over to set the tray down on the counter, and then pulled out his phone to check the time. 

Five minutes until they had to open. Sokka sighed and turned to go get an apron from the kitchen, resigning himself to a double shift. 

Despite the bright sunlight outside, they had a slower morning than usual. A few regulars came in for a late breakfast, ordering scones and pots of caffeinated tea to sip at over their newspapers.

Sokka was serving a chatty pair of old women when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. It was Zuko, lifting the kitchen curtain and slipping into the room. 

“Excuse me, ladies,” Sokka said, setting the warm teapot carefully in the middle of their table. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

He turned and wove his way through the tables. Zuko was waiting for him behind the counter. Sokka leaned up against the pastry case, gazing out at their customers.

“Your scones look like shit,” Zuko said after a few moments of silence. 

“Sorry we can’t all be master pastry chefs.” 

Zuko smiled faintly. He stared down at his hands, face clear and calm again.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m really sorry about earlier.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Sokka hesitated, then said, “Hey, you can talk to me about stuff. You know that, right?”

“You don’t have to deal with my problems, Sokka.”

“I want to.” It slipped out too quickly, drawing Zuko’s attention to him. Sokka, afraid that his feelings would be written right there on his face for Zuko to see, followed it up with, “I’m good at solving problems.”

“The man with a plan, huh?” Zuko’s smile was a little bit more genuine now. 

“I’ve been told I’m very smart.” 

Zuko brushed a crumb off the counter, gaze fixed downwards. “You are.”

Warmth rushed into Sokka’s face. He shifted where he stood, pressing his hip into the counter, and grinned. “I’ve also been told I’m very attractive.”

Zuko’s smile widened. His cheeks were pink, and Sokka was hit once more by a wave of _wow I’ve been so fucking stupid._

“Don’t push it,” Zuko said. He glanced at Sokka, quickly, hesitantly, then said, “Are we okay?”

Sokka felt as though something tight in him was unwinding. “Yeah,” he said. “‘Course we are.” He leaned across the counter to lightly punch Zuko on the shoulder, like he would do with any of his bros. Well, bros and Toph. “I missed you.”

Zuko ducked his head. “I missed you, too.”

Sokka stared at him. Then, before he could do anything stupid (like lunge across the counter and kiss him, that kind of sounded like a good idea right about now), he said, “What are you going to do about Christmas?”

“My father wants to see me,” Zuko said. “I’m going to respect his wishes.” 

Sokka frowned. “Is that what you want?”

Zuko tapped his fingers against the counter. “It’s an honor to be invited home for the holidays.”

Something about the way he said that made Sokka’s skin prickle. He remembered Iroh telling him that Zuko’s father’s expectations were impossible to live up to, remembered the glint in Zuko’s eyes as he told Sokka that his father wanted him at Christmas. Sokka wished he knew more about Zuko’s family. Some of the pieces were fitting together, and Sokka was hoping that for once he had it all wrong. 

“Thanks for covering for me,” Zuko said. “You should go home, you’re not scheduled until later.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Seriously,” Zuko said with a grin. “Go take a nap or something. I know this is really early for you.”

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Smartass,” he said. He untied his apron and pulled it over his head. “Fine. But are you going to stop fucking with the schedule and start working with me again?” 

“Uncle makes the schedule.” When Sokka shot him a look, Zuko said, “Fine, I’ll stop fucking with it.”

The next day when Sokka showed up for his shift, Zuko was already there. He looked up from the tea he was pouring for a customer when Sokka walked in and his smile, soft and conspiratorial like he and Sokka were in on something no one else in the room would understand, was brighter than the sun.

Jesus. Sokka really was fucked.

X X X X X

Gran Gran put her tiles down with sharp clicks against the wooden board. “Mesquite,” she said. She jabbed a finger at Sokka. “Write that down.”

“You know, Gran Gran,” Sokka said as he added another thirty points to her winning score. “Not that I don’t love getting my ass kicked in Scrabble by my grandmother on a Friday night, but are you sure you want to play _five rounds_?” 

“It’s called a Scrabble tournament, Sokka,” Gran Gran said. She scowled at him. “Don’t swear.” 

Katara frowned down at her tiles, and then glanced at the board. “Agate,” she announced, pulling out her tiles and leaning across the kitchen table to place them on the board. “Write it down, Sokka.”

“Women are so pushy,” Sokka muttered. Katara threw a tile at him, striking him square on the jaw. “Ouch! Gran Gran!” 

“Nice aim, Katara,” Gran Gran said.

Sokka glared down at his tiles. He mostly had vowels and he didn’t care enough to try and think of a good word to make out of them. He still resented being coerced into family game night when he’d been _planning_ on asking Zuko to hang out. How was he supposed to figure out how to make a move on a guy if he had to spend all his time with his grandmother?

“At,” Sokka announced, slapping a ‘t’ down.

Gran Gran clicked her tongue. “You aren’t even trying.”

“No,” Sokka said, “because it’s past nine o’clock and we haven’t had dinner yet. I’m starving.” 

“You need to learn patience,” Gran Gran said, lifting her tile holder to peer at her letters. 

Sokka slumped back against his seat, crossing his arms. “I’m patient.” Next to him, Katara snorted, and Sokka glared at her. 

Before Gran Gran could make her next move, Sokka heard the sound of the front door opening down the hall. He was on his feet in seconds, frowning in that direction, because Gran Gran hadn’t mentioned anything about any visitors. 

“Who is that?” Katara stood as well. She met Sokka’s eyes, reflecting his own confusion.

“Not sure,” Gran Gran said. She hadn’t looked up from the Scrabble board, and still seemed to be pondering her move. She picked up a few tiles and put them on the board. “Fury for eight points.”

“Gran Gran,” Sokka hissed, because he could hear heavy footsteps approaching them down the hall. He cast around for a weapon to use, turning to try and figure out how far he was from the kitchen knives, and missed it when Katara gasped.

Sokka whirled back around in time to see Katara running forward and flinging herself at the tall figure that had just appeared in the doorway. 

Sokka’s heart jumped. He stared as the man bent down to wrap Katara in a tight hug, gripping her so closely her feet were almost lifted off the floor. He watched as he lifted his head, his bright blue eyes crinkled with a smile, his hair a little longer than it had been but tied back in his usual half-up ponytail.

“Dad,” Sokka breathed, and then he was stumbling across the room and throwing himself into Hakoda’s open arms.

He pressed himself against Katara, against his father, and felt Hakoda’s arm wrap around him. Sokka gripped the back of his father’s shirt, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing in the warm scent of his cologne. His throat felt tight, and he was worried if he tried to say anything he would start sobbing.

He heard a kitchen chair creak behind him. “I’ll get dinner ready,” Gran Gran said. 

Katara shuddered next to him. When Sokka pulled back to look at her, her face was wet with tears.

“Let me look at both of you.” Hakoda drew away, just far enough to look down at them while still keeping his arms firmly around them both. He smiled broadly. “You both look so mature.”

“Dad,” Sokka said, tightening his grip on Hakoda’s arm, “when did you get here?”

“Our plane landed an hour ago, we got delayed at our layover. Sorry, Kanna,” he said over their heads.

“That’s alright,” Gran Gran said. “I was beating your children in Scrabble.”

“Is Bato here?” Katara asked, reaching up to scrub at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Yes, he went to go visit his mother, but he’s joining us for dinner tomorrow.” 

“But, Dad,” Sokka said, mind still reeling as he tried to come to terms with the fact that his father was _here, in front of him,_ for the first time in a year. “I thought you weren’t going to make it back for Christmas!”

“Plans changed,” Hakoda said.“I’ve got a month’s leave starting today. I thought I would surprise you.”

Katara made another choked sound and buried her face in Hakoda’s chest. Sokka reached up to grip her shoulder, feeling pressure behind his own eyes as well. 

Hakoda dropped a kiss to the top of her head and smiled at Sokka. “I missed you both so much,” he said.

Sokka swallowed. “We missed you, too.”

“You’ll all miss dinner if you don’t come and sit down.” They turned to see Gran Gran standing in front of the kitchen table, which had been cleared of the Scrabble board and re-set with a plate of fried fish that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Despite her tone, her expression was soft as she looked them over. 

Hakoda gave them each one last squeeze before releasing them. “You heard your grandmother,” he said. “Come on, let’s eat. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up afterwards.”

Sokka grinned and went to go help his grandmother fetch plates down from the cupboard.

It was the best fish Sokka had had in a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it clear that I have a massive crush on Suki yet? Because I do. 
> 
> I had this chapter scheduled to come out tomorrow, but I felt bad about leaving you all off on the last chapter, so I thought I would provide some positivity ASAP :) I hope you all enjoyed- thank you, thank you for your continued support!! :)


	10. Chapter 10

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay, Uncle?” Zuko asked, pausing by the counter with his backpack in hand.

Iroh looked up from his notebook. He peered at Zuko through his reading glasses, which had slid down to the tip of his nose.

“No, Zuko,” Iroh said. He smiled. “Go get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

Zuko bit back a sigh, but knew better than to argue with his uncle when he decided that Zuko needed some time off. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you at dinner.” 

“Yes,” Iroh said, and then flapped a hand at Zuko. “Go relax, shoo!”

Zuko grinned as he turned to walk towards the front door.

He was grateful for how fully his uncle had forgiven him. Zuko had forgotten, somehow, his uncle’s capacity for it, but Iroh had pointed out that he was well-accustomed to Zuko’s tantrums (his phrasing had stung a little bit, but Zuko hadn’t been able to argue). After Zuko’s humiliating breakdown in front of Sokka, Iroh had listened to each of Zuko’s choked apologies and soothed each one with a gentle touch.

Iroh had been a lot less understanding about Zuko’s decision to attend his family’s Christmas. Zuko knew that his uncle disapproved, and had resigned himself to mentioning it as little as possible to him.

The air was brisk when Zuko stepped outside. With only a few days left before Christmas, the snow had been coming down in sheets. Last night they’d received several inches, and Zuko pulled a face as he kicked a wad of snow off of the sidewalk as he passed it.

“Zuko!” called a voice behind him. Zuko turned and was startled to see Suki jogging towards him.

“Oh,” Zuko said. He shoved his hands in the pocket of his coat, wishing he could shrink completely into it. Now that he and Sokka were speaking again, Zuko felt more than a little bit ashamed about how rude he had been to Suki. It wasn’t her fault that Sokka liked her. “Hi, Suki.”

Suki was wearing a thin green coat, leaving her head and face uncovered in the chill. The tip of her nose was pink. “Hey,” she said. “Did you just get off work?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said. “I don’t think Sokka’s coming in today.”

“That’s okay,” Suki said, readjusting the strap of her tote bag. “I’m actually headed to get some boba right now. Want to join me?”

Zuko blinked, taken aback. Suki looked at him so expectantly he found himself saying “Uh, sure?” without consciously deciding to.

“Great!” Suki walked over and grabbed his arm, tugging him down the sidewalk. “It’s just up the street.”

Zuko stumbled over his feet as Suki dragged him. He wondered, distantly, if he was walking into some kind of revenge plot for ignoring her. Was Suki the type to try and get even?

The boba shop was tiny and colorful, and just a block down from the Jasmine Dragon. Cheerful pop music played as Suki pushed the door open with her hip and pulled Zuko through, finally letting go of his arm so they could approach the woman waiting at the register. 

Zuko waited nervously while Suki ordered. When it was his turn he asked for brown sugar milk tea in the smallest possible size and paid with a crumpled ten dollar bill. 

They stood in silence while their drinks were being made. Zuko’s skin was itching with discomfort by the time the woman set their boba on the counter, a plastic straw balanced atop each.

“So,” Suki said, leading the way over to a table in the corner of the room. She dropped down into one of the plastic seats and grinned at Zuko. “This is weird.”

Zuko let out a startled laugh. “Yeah,” he said, sinking down to sit across from Suki.

The plastic crinkled as Suki pulled her straw out. “I don’t know if you remember this,” she said, “but you got one of my girls kicked off the soccer team.”

Zuko frowned. “I did?”

“Yeah.” Suki stabbed her straw through the plastic covering on the cup. “Fake vandalism charges will do that.” 

Zuko dropped his gaze as she sipped at her boba. He vaguely remembered laughing about something like that with Azula. “Right,” he said. “I’m- I’m really sorry about that.”

Suki swallowed her drink. “I know,” she said. “I just wanted to emphasize how weird this is.” 

Zuko fiddled with his own straw, twisting it between his fingers. “Are you, um, having a nice break?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Suki said. “I miss being at school, but it’s nice to be back with everyone.”

Zuko nodded, ignoring the dull pressure in his chest. “Right,” he said. “It’s cool that you and Sokka get to spend so much time together.”

Suki frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just that, you guys are dating, and-”

“Wait,” Suki said. Zuko didn’t understand why she looked so confused. “Sokka told you we’re dating?”

Now it was Zuko’s turn to frown. “He told me he was going to ask you out while you were here. I just kind of assumed…?” 

Suki huffed. “That idiot,” she said, mostly to herself. She looked back at Zuko, her eyebrows furrowed. “Sokka and I broke up for good. We’re just friends.”

Zuko felt as though he’d been doused with cold water. He dropped his abused straw onto the table and said, “Really?” 

“Really,” Suki said. She set her boba down and looked at Zuko closely over it. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said, still reeling from the news. Sokka and Suki weren’t dating. That- okay, that didn’t change anything at all for Zuko, but it made it a lot easier to look Suki in the eye. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright,” Suki said. “It was totally mutual, and we’re still close friends. That’s sort of why I wanted to talk to you today.” She clasped her hands on the table in front of her. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. The others speak really highly of you, and I would love to get to know you better before I leave. I’m sorry if I did anything to make you uncomfortable.”

“No,” Zuko said, “don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything at all. It was just-” He hesitated. Suki raised her eyebrows, lips twitching upwards, as Zuko floundered for something to say that wouldn’t expose him completely. “You’re really cool.”

“Aw, Zuko,” Suki said with a grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Zuko flushed. He opened his straw to have something to do with his hands, and stabbed it into his own drink.

“Zuko, I want you to know that Sokka is really stupid,” Suki said.

Zuko frowned at her. Hadn’t she just said that she and Sokka were still friends? “Okay?”

“I mean, like, _really_ stupid,” Suki said, laying on the emphasis. “It took him three months to ask me out the first time because he convinced himself I would only say yes on a full moon.”

“Oh,” Zuko said. “That’s really…”

“Stupid,” Suki agreed. She sipped loudly at her drink. “He’s also super careful about planning when it comes to that type of stuff. He will spend weeks working himself up and trying to strategize the perfect move before he does anything.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Suki shrugged. “I thought you might want to know,” she said. “You know, it sort of feels like I’m passing off the Sokka’s best friend baton to you.” 

Zuko shook his head so quickly he almost hurt his neck. “No,” he said, “no, I’m not Sokka’s best friend.” 

“I’ve been kind-of dating Sokka for five years,” Suki said. “I think I know him well enough to spot something like this.” 

Zuko bit his tongue against further protests, trying to ignore how badly his face was burning. There was no way Suki was right, but he felt like it would be ruder to continue trying to argue with her.

“Zuko,” Suki continued when he didn’t say anything, “Sokka really cares about you. Thank you for caring about him, too. It helps to know that there’s someone here to look after him.”

Zuko wasn’t sure what she meant, but she said it so earnestly Zuko could tell that it was important for her to share.

They were quite for a few moments, taking some time to sip their drinks. Zuko’s milk tea was thick and sweet, a welcome change after months of drinking little outside of his uncle’s bitter tea. 

“I’ve been told that you’re an excellent baker,” Suki said finally. “Which leads me to wonder why I haven’t gotten any free samples yet.”

Zuko chewed on a tapioca pearl, mulling this over for a moment. He swallowed and said without looking at her, “I bake for the shop a few hours before we open. You can come tomorrow, if you want. I’m always looking for taste-testers.”

He peeked at Suki to find her already smiling at him. Zuko was relieved when he was able to hold her gaze.

“I’d like that a lot,” Suki said. 

Zuko smiled. They went back to sipping their drinks, and this time the silence was comfortable.

X X X X X

When Christmas came, Zuko thought he had come down with the flu.

He woke up long before sunrise and sat in bed staring out his dark window. He felt warm all over, almost feverish, and every time he tried to move his stomach would twist so badly he was afraid he would throw up. He spent most of the morning curled up under his blankets pretending not to be awake when his uncle came and peeked into his room.

A few hours before he had to leave, Zuko got up. He showered and brushed his hair, smoothing it back into a topknot and securing it with a red ribbon. He pulled on the clothes he had carefully pressed last night- a black button-down top, cinched at the waist with loose sleeves, and a pair of silk black pants, all leftover designer. He was several seasons out of date, but hopefully that would fly under Azula’s radar.

The rest of his time was spent pacing around his room and watching the sun rise higher and higher in the sky. An hour before noon he slipped out without telling his uncle, having already turned down his offer of a ride. Zuko had taught himself to use the bus system when he had first come to live with his uncle, and he appreciated the time it gave him to think.

The bus was almost empty due to the holiday. Zuko sat in the far back, crossing his arms and glaring at a short, toothy man who looked like he was about to wander over and sit with him until he went away. Zuko stared out the window, watching the city pass in a blur. When the bus pulled up to his stop, he got up and stepped down into the snow.

The family home was in the heart of the richest neighborhood in the city, a thirty minute trek from the nearest bus station. Zuko walked quickly, keeping his head hunched down and his hands in the pockets of his coat to try and ward off the chill. He passed huge, sprawling homes and properties with long driveways and swooping architecture. Once they had been familiar to Zuko. Now he had to stop himself from thinking of them as gaudy.

He slowed as he turned down his old street. His feet traced the familiar path down the sidewalk, and he watched as Ozai’s property came into view. It was larger than all the others, set up on a hill to let the driveway and path up sprawl across the snow-covered lawn. The house itself was massive, built of square-cut grey brick with dark trimmings. As Zuko stared up at it a sharp breeze blew past, making him shiver.

The path up to the house was clear of snow. Zuko followed its curves until he was approaching the huge black door. 

Zuko stepped onto the front stoop. He stood there, staring at the dark wood. Before he could lose his nerve, he reached up to grasp one of the gold knockers, which were carved into the shape of elegant, curving dragons.

He let the knocker fall, pounding once against the door, and then stepped back, shoving his hands into his pocket once more.

It took almost a full minute for the door to move. A lock clicked and it opened. Zuko half-expected it to creak ominously, but his father would have never have allowed that. 

A familiar scowl framed by grey sideburns greeted him.

“Hello, Jee,” Zuko said.

Jee stepped back, opening the door wider. “Sir,” he said, dipping into a bow as Zuko passed him.

The foyer was huge and gaping, all white marble and a sweeping staircase leading up to the second floor. 

Zuko shrugged out of his coat, waiting for Jee to shut the front door again before turning to hand it off to him. 

“Your father and sister are in the upstairs drawing room,” Jee said as Zuko pulled off his gloves and passed them over as well. “Dinner will be served at five o’clock.”

Zuko nodded. He turned to climb up the stairs, listening to his footsteps against the cold marble. It sort of felt like he was walking through a dream, like the air around him was pressing in and slowing him him down. At the top of the stairs Zuko paused, turning to gaze down the hall to his right. He could distantly see a door at the end of the hall that was closed tight. Zuko wavered, instincts drawing him to his old bedroom, to check and see if it was the same as he’d left it. He’d always wondered what they’d done with his stuff. When Ozai had asked Zuko to leave, he’d given him one suitcase to pack the most important things into before turning him out into the snow. Zuko had grabbed what he’d thought had been most valuable at the time- mostly clothes, including what he was wearing now- but he had left so, so much behind, unaware of how long his father’s ire would last. 

Zuko turned away from it and walked in the other direction. The door to the drawing room was ajar, and Zuko could see yellow light streaming into the hallway, could hear voices murmuring to one another from within.

Zuko paused again just outside the door. He reached up to check that his topknot was snow-free. The voices on the other side went silent.

Zuko swallowed and raised his hand to push open the door, stepping inside. The drawing room was a small, intimate space typically reserved for close family members. The floor was dark hardwood, the walls lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and portraits of various austere family members. There was a large window set into the far wall that looked out over their backyard, at the land stretching for a mile out before turning into barren snow-covered trees. Directly across from Zuko was the fireplace, huge, made of carefully carved black marble. Flames roared within, burning hot and high. It was big enough for Zuko to sit in, even now.

Two figures sat on the sofa, their backs to Zuko. Azula twisted to look at him immediately. Her hair was straight and silky smooth, pulled up in places to create elegant cascades. Her eyes were wide, flat pieces of amber as she looked Zuko over. Her red lips parted, stretching into a slow, wide smile. Even from here Zuko could see the reflection of the firelight dancing in her eyes. 

The other head beside her turned, black hair falling back so Zuko could just see his sharp profile. He was smiling, too.

“Zuko,” his father said. “Welcome home.” 

X X X X X

Zuko’s face felt numb. He stared up at the sign, squinting through the icy air to read the tiny black print along the bottom that listed the hours. 

It was Christmas. That meant the buses stopped running earlier in the day. That meant they had stopped running several hours ago, and Zuko had no way of getting back to his uncle’s house on his own. 

Zuko wrapped his arms around himself. His coat was decently thick, but the temperature had plummeted in the time that Zuko had been inside. Zuko breathed out slowly, watching his breath crystallize in the air.

He was tempted to try and walk it, but it would take well over an hour, and Zuko wasn’t stupid enough to risk his own life for the sake of his pride. He dug his phone out of his pocket with shaking hands, pulling off his glove with his teeth and holding it there as he scrolled through his contacts.

He meant to call his uncle. As he raised the phone to his ear and listened to it ring, he knew that wasn’t who he needed to speak to.

Zuko pulled his glove out of his mouth when the call was picked up. “Zuko?” Sokka asked.

“Hi,” Zuko said. 

“Hey.” Zuko could picture Sokka’s smile, and it made him smile, too. He ignored the wind as it buffetted around him. “Are you finished at your dad’s?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d it go?”

“Oh,” Zuko said. His eyes drifted down the dark street, back in the direction he had just come.

“Zuko?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said. And then, “Could I ask a quick favor?”

“Yes, of course, anything.”

“I forgot the bus doesn’t run after five,” Zuko said. “Uncle is probably asleep already, and I don’t want to disturb him. Would you be able to give me a ride?”

“Absolutely.” He heard the sounds of Sokka moving around, of other voices half-faded into the background. “What’s your dad’s address?”

“Actually,” Zuko said, “I’m already at the bus stop.”

“You’re _what_?” Zuko winced at Sokka’s sharp tone. “Zuko, it’s freezing out there! Is there somewhere you can go to wait?”

Zuko’s teeth chattered as he turned in a circle, looking around the dark street. “Everything’s closed,” he said.

Sokka swore. “I’m coming,” he said. His movements were a lot louder now. “Which bus stop?”

“It’s on Linn Street.”

“Jesus, what the hell are you doing all the way over there? Alright, I’ll be there in ten minutes. Try to keep warm. Do jumping jacks or something, I don’t know.”

“There’s actually a bench I think I’m going to sit on,” Zuko said, squinting back towards the tiny covered awning and the bench tucked underneath it.

“Do not sit on the bench!”

“Okay, fine,” Zuko said. He shivered, fingers tightening involuntarily on his phone. “No need to yell.”

Sokka made a noise of exasperation. “I’m in the car,” he said. “I’m hanging up now because I can’t afford to crash and leave your sorry ass out there. Stay put, I’m on my way.”

“Thank you, Sokka.” Sokka hung up without responding, which Zuko thought was pretty rude.

He went to go stand under the awning, but dutifully didn’t sit down even though he felt exhausted. He clenched his jaw tight, trying and failing to control his chattering teeth. He was shielded from the wind while he was in the shelter of the bus stop, but he could still feel the cold sinking through the layers of his clothes, worming down into his bones. 

Okay, maybe this was a little worse than he’d thought it was.

He stood there shivering for ten minutes, staring out into the darkness. The streetlamps were on, but the wind was tossing up so much snow it made everything look clouded. Zuko stood there quietly, listening to the wind blowing outside of his little shelter. He was grateful he had that much, at least.

Zuko was swaying in time with the breeze when he spotted two pinpricks of light approaching. He tightened his jacket around himself, took a deep, bracing breath, and then stepped out into the whipping wind and snow, ducking his head down when it stung his cheeks.

He trudged through the snow towards the street. The car pulled up in front of him and Zuko heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and then someone was running around the car towards Zuko, arm lifted to shield their eyes from the snow.

“Jesus fucking christ, Zuko.” Sokka’s voice was warm in his ears, his arms were wrapping tight around Zuko, trying to protect him from the worst of the wind. “Get in the car!”

Zuko let Sokka lead him to the car. He stood and watched as Sokka opened the passenger’s door, and went willingly when Sokka shoved him inside.

The sudden warmth sent a wracking chill through Zuko’s body. Sokka shut his door, encasing him in the heated interior. Zuko shivered and watched through the dark window as Sokka ran around to the other side and slipped into the driver’s seat.

“Fuck, Zuko.” Sokka shut his door behind him to fully insulate them from the wind. Sokka’s car was small and old, with honest-to-god window cranks and peeling paint on the dashboard. Zuko loved it immediately. 

Sokka twisted in his seat to face Zuko. He reached up to cup Zuko’s cheeks in his hands, and Zuko had to stop himself from pulling away because _jesus his hands were hot._

“You’re freezing,” Sokka said. He was frowning, forehead rumpled as he looked Zuko over. His face was very close to Zuko’s. Zuko could see each faint smile line and faded acne scar, could see the line of stubble on Sokka’s jaw. He wanted to reach out and touch him, run his fingers along Sokka’s cheekbones and the curve of his lips the same way Sokka was touching him, the way he was pressing his warm fingers to Zuko’s skin, skimming across his temples and the edges of his scar like it didn’t bother him. 

“What were you thinking?” Sokka demanded.

“I was thinking,” Zuko said, forcing his words out through his chattering teeth, “that not all of us have cars and some of us have to rely on public transportation.”

“We’re in the middle of a snowstorm!”

“Well,” Zuko said. “Okay, I didn’t think about that one.”

Sokka huffed. He moved his hands, cupping the underside of Zuko’s jaw to try and spread the warmth. Zuko tilted his head back to let him work, biting his tongue and trying to ignore the feeling of Sokka’s fingers on his neck before he could do something as monumentally stupid as _moan_.

“How did your dad let you leave in this?”

“He doesn’t care,” Zuko said, staring up at the car’s ceiling.

Sokka was quiet. His fingers wandered up, back to Zuko’s jaw, and applied just enough pressure to get Zuko to tilt his head back down and look at Sokka. Sokka’s eyes were bright and blue. 

“What happened?” he asked.

Zuko swallowed. Sokka let go of his face and took his hands instead, pulling off Zuko’s snow-covered gloves. Zuko’s fingers were pale and cold, trembling despite having been mostly protected.

“Nothing,” Zuko said as Sokka took both of Zuko’s hands in his, wrapping them in warmth. “It was- it was fine. My father talked to me, he asked me about school, he- he was making plans for us, for the future, for whenever I come back to work for him.” 

Sokka squeezed Zuko’s fingers. “Isn’t that good?”

“Yes,” Zuko said. Then, “I don’t know.”

Sokka raised Zuko’s hands, cupping them in his. He lowered his head to blow warm air across Zuko’s knuckles. A shiver worked its way up Zuko’s spine.

“What’s your father’s company?” Sokka asked.

Zuko swallowed. “Fyre Industries.”

Sokka’s eyes widened. “Holy shit,” he said. “Your dad works for them?”

“He’s, um,” Zuko said. “He’s the CEO, actually. He inherited it from my grandfather. It’s kind of the family business.”

“Your _family business_ is Fyre Industries?” Sokka whistled, looking vaguely impressed. It made Zuko’s stomach twist. “Wow, I knew you were a rich kid, but I didn’t know you had that kind of money.”

“I don’t,” Zuko said. He pulled his hands away from Sokka’s and turned to stare out the windshield at the dark street. “My father and sister have that money. I don’t have anything.”

Sokka said, “What do you mean?”

Zuko dug his fingers into the seat of the car, trying to ground himself. “My father disowned me,” he said. “Right after I graduated high school. I was going to go to Stanford for business, but he- he pulled my tuition money and kicked me out of the house.”

“He disowned you?” Sokka sounded shocked, and Zuko didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to see the look on his face as he realized just how fucked up Zuko really was. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Zuko said. “Uncle took me in.” 

“Zuko,” Sokka said. “That’s really bad.” 

Zuko pressed his lips together and stared hard out the window.

“What- why did he do it?” 

Zuko shook his head. He wanted to tell Sokka that he couldn’t tell him, that Sokka would hate him if he told him why his own father had turned him out into the streets, but he was afraid that if he tried to speak he would choke on his own words. 

Sokka touched his shoulder. Zuko glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, warily taking in the concerned expression on Sokka’s face. It didn’t _seem_ like the guy was freaked out by him. 

“Okay,” Sokka said. He brushed his thumb along Zuko’s shoulder, rubbing circles. It took all of Zuko’s remaining energy not to slump into his touch. “You look exhausted. Want me to take you home?”

Zuko nodded, relieved.

Sokka drove slowly, his headlights cutting through most of the dark snow outside but not enough to go any faster than the speed limit. They sat in silence, Sokka with his eyes fixed on the road ahead, Zuko curled up against the seats trying to stop shivering. He was warming up now, but he could tell that his socks had gotten wet and his feet were freezing. Now that the adrenaline of standing in the snow for too long had worn off Zuko felt exhausted. 

“How was your day?” Zuko asked, leaning his head against the window and looking out into the darkness.

“It was good,” Sokka said. He turned right; they were only a few blocks from Uncle’s, now. “It was just my dad and his friend Bato, and Gran Gran and Katara, of course. Bato’s really into charades right now, so we did a lot of that. Gran Gran made a turkey.”

“Hm,” Zuko said. He shut his eyes, feeling a small smile on his face. “That sounds nice.”

Sokka didn’t respond.

Zuko was drifting by the time Sokka pulled to a stop. He heard Sokka’s voice, close to his ear, saying, “We’re here.”

Zuko blinked. He sat up and watched numbly as Sokka turned off the car and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“What are you doing?” Zuko asked when Sokka pushed open his door.

Sokka just rolled his eyes and got out, shutting the door behind him. A moment later the passenger’s door opened and Sokka was there, leaning down to reach for Zuko’s elbow. “C’mon, let’s get you inside,” he said, guiding Zuko out of the car. 

It was a short walk up the path to his uncle’s house, which was a small two-story building painted cozy green. The lights were on in the house, casting a warm glow in the windows. Sokka walked so close to Zuko their shoulders brushed together. 

When they reached the front door Zuko pushed it open, all but stumbling into the entryway. Sokka came in behind him, closing the door.

“Zuko?” Iroh, who was sitting in his favorite armchair in the living room, lowered the book he was reading. He stood up, taking his glasses off and dropping them on the coffee table. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Zuko said. Sokka grabbed the zipper of his coat and undid it, and Zuko was tired enough to let the other boy strip him out of his jacket like he was a child.

“He needs to warm up,” Sokka said.

“I’ll go run a hot bath.”

“No,” Zuko said before his uncle could leave. He extricated himself carefully from Sokka’s grip, taking his coat back from him. “I’m alright. I just want to go to bed.”

“Are you sure?” Sokka looked so concerned Zuko couldn’t help but smile at him, just a little bit.

“Yes,” he said. He hesitated, then reached out to squeeze Sokka’s hand. His fingers weren’t as hot as they’d seemed in the car. “Thank you for your help, Sokka.”

Sokka’s fingers tightened around his. Zuko soaked in the warmth for just a moment before he released him, wrapping his arms around his coat. “Goodnight, Uncle.”

“Rest well, nephew,” Iroh said.

Zuko left them in the living room, mounting the stairs back up to his bedroom. His legs felt heavy and every step drained so much energy that by the time Zuko got to his room he felt mostly asleep. He reached up to pull the ribbon out of his hair, letting the topknot fall, and sat down heavily on his bed. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt for a few moments before sighing and pulling it over his head, not bothering to hang it up or fold it neatly. He threw it onto the floor, kicked his shoes off, and then collapsed back against his pillows, tugging his blankets over himself to ward off any lingering chills.

He fell asleep before he could think about anything else.

X X X X X

“Put it over there.”

“Like this?”

“Ouch! That was my foot!”

“Sorry I didn’t see you there, I’m _blind_.” 

Zuko frowned, squeezing his eyes tighter. He rolled over to press his face against his pillows, dragging his blanket closer to try and fend off whatever was threatening to wake him up.

“Shh, you’re being too loud!”

“It’s almost noon, he needs to get his ass up, anyways.”

Zuko felt the world dip beneath him. “Zuko,” said a familiar voice. “Wakey wakey, sunshine.” 

God, didn’t anyone understand that sometimes Zuko just wanted to sleep? He groaned, reaching up to rub at his eyes, and rolled over to squint at the person next to him. Sokka’s face swam into vision, backlit by the sunlight streaming in through the window, surrounding him in a faint halo of gold. He was smiling down at Zuko, his expression soft. Zuko assumed that this was just another phase of his dreams, until Aang’s face popped up behind Sokka’s with a slightly manic smile and said, “Surprise!”

“Agh!” Zuko scrambled backwards, trying to sit up. His hands got tangled in his blankets and he yanked them back out, staring with wide eyes around his room. “What the fuck?”

Sokka really was here, sitting next to Zuko, and so was Aang and Toph and Katara and even Suki. They were all just standing around watching him with varying levels of amusement as Zuko tried really hard to process why they were all _in his room_. 

“Merry Christmas!” Katara said. She was wearing a fluffy blue sweater, her hair curled neatly over her shoulder, and she was smiling at Zuko, which was already a red flag. Katara and him were civil now, but Zuko couldn’t remember a time that she had looked at him with anything other than vague contempt. 

Zuko looked from her to Sokka, who was still grinning at him. “It’s not Christmas.”

“It’s the day after Christmas,” Suki said. “That’s close enough.”

“Look, Zuko!” Aang darted out from behind Sokka and gestured at what looked like a very prickly bush leaning up against Zuko’s wall. “We brought a tree!”

Zuko stared at it. “What?”

“Well, technically it’s not a whole tree,” Sokka said. He leaned back on his hands, looking far too casual for someone that had broken into Zuko’s home and was now lying in his bed. “I cut the top off of our tree at home, so it’s kind of like, half a tree?”

“But we can still decorate it!” Aang said. 

Zuko sat up fully. He rubbed his eyes again, half-expecting them to all disappear when he looked back up. They didn’t.

“Why did you bring a tree into my room?” he asked. He frowned at them. “Why are you all in my room?”

“It’s time for friend Christmas, dork,” said Toph. She crossed her arms, glaring at him in a way that would have been intimidating if she wasn’t wearing a sweater with a picture of a snowman on it. “Get up, the day’s half over.”

“Friend Christmas,” Zuko repeated. 

He looked at Sokka, and his confusion must have shown on his face because Sokka said, “You know, like Christmas except it’s the day after and all your friends are here. We wanted to surprise you.” He grinned. He was wearing a Christmas sweater, too; his had a robot decorated with baubles on it. “We’re going to decorate the half-tree and watch Christmas movies all day. Iroh already said we can use the kitchen, so we brought stuff to make cookies, too. You’ll probably have to take the lead on that, though, because no one else knows how to make them.” 

Zuko drew in a shaky breath. Katara reached out to take Aang’s hand, gently drawing him towards the door. “Come on,” she said, “let’s let Zuko get dressed. We’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Gross,” Toph said, letting Suki grab her arm and drag her away. “Is Zuko naked?”

Zuko flushed. “No!”

“Sounds like something a naked person would say,” Toph said, and then grunted when Suki shoved her out the door and closed it behind them.

Sokka didn’t move from Zuko’s bed. Zuko gripped his blankets tighter, drawing them closer to his bare chest, well aware that he definitely looked like shit.

“You guys really don’t have to do this,” he said.

“We want to,” Sokka said. “Gyatso doesn’t celebrate holidays and Toph’s family is Buddhist, so she and Aang are excited for this, too.”

“But,” Zuko said, curling his fingers into his blanket, “why?”

Now Sokka looked a little bit awkward. “Well,” he said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “It didn’t really seem like you had the best day yesterday, which is a bummer because Christmas only comes once a year and all that. So I figured I would give you a do-over, you know, except this time you’ll be with all your friends.” He wasn’t meeting Zuko’s gaze. “We can totally leave, if you hate it.”

“No,” Zuko said. He felt his eyes prickling, and reached up to rub at them, praying that he wouldn’t embarrass himself by crying in front of Sokka _yet again_. “No, Sokka, this- this is the nicest thing that anyone’s ever done for me.” 

Sokka’s smile was bright and instantaneous, and Zuko was struck with a wave of overwhelming warmth. 

Zuko was really, really fucked.

“Oh!” Sokka reached down, digging through a bag at his feet. “We got you a Christmas sweater, too.”

He passed it over to Zuko, who looked at the design stitched on the front. “This is a deer,” he said.

“A reindeer,” Sokka clarified.

Zuko blinked down at it. “It’s got a red pom-pom on its nose.”

“It’s Rudolph! C’mon, he’s like, an icon.” 

Zuko hugged the sweater to his chest. He looked back up at Sokka, who was watching him closely.

“Thank you, Sokka,” he said.

Sokka’s expression faltered. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, and then paused. He stared at Zuko, brow furrowing, his gaze suddenly very intense, and all Zuko could do was sit there and stare back and try to focus on keeping his breathing calm. 

A loud bang from downstairs made them both jump, and Katara’s shout carried through the small house, “Toph, put the eggs down!”

“We should probably, um.” Zuko cleared his throat, embarrassed when his voice came out a little hoarse. “We should probably make sure they aren’t breaking my uncle’s house.”

Sokka blinked. “Right,” he said. He pulled away from Zuko and stood up. Zuko didn’t remember when he had even gotten that close to him. “I’ll let you and Rudolph get acquainted. Come down whenever you’re ready.” He smiled again at Zuko as he backed away across the room, and then slipped out the door, closing it behind him. 

When he was gone Zuko let out a long, slow breath. His heart was pounding in his chest and his skin prickled with heat, like he was still trying to warm himself up after last night. 

He gave himself a minute to get everything under control and then stood up, sliding out of bed. He was still wearing his pants from yesterday; the black silk was rumpled in a way that would have made Azula livid. Zuko pulled the sweater over his head. It was slightly too big, and the sleeves fell past his hands unless he pushed them up to his elbow. Zuko dragged his fingers through his hair as he walked over to his mirror to look himself over.

He took in the wrinkles, the pom-poms, the mess that was his unbrushed hair. He still felt tired from the day before, but the sweater was soft and cozy, and it finally felt as though he’d warmed up.

Zuko ruffled his hair one last time, trying to make it look at least _somewhat_ presentable, and turned to join everyone downstairs. He needed someone to get that stupid tree out of his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no one:  
> my garbage brain: zuko has never had a good christmas and im gonna fix it
> 
> Thank you all for reading and for your continued support!! Just a heads up I'm planning on moving apartments in a couple of weeks, so if my updates get a little more sporadic I'm just struggling with all the stress of that. I hope you're all doing well!!
> 
> P.S. I'm a little behind on replying to comments because y'all are being sooooo generous with them (thank you so so much) but I see you all and I appreciate you and will try to knock those out soon <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the end notes for content warnings.

“Invisibility.”

“What if someone sits on you?” Zuko flipped the pie crust around and dusted it with more flour. “Plus, don’t you have to be naked for it to actually work?” 

“I’d consider that a plus,” Sokka said, swinging his feet so his heels knocked back against the counter he was perched on. “Bonus points if someone sits on you _while_ you’re naked.”

Zuko pulled a face and flicked flour at Sokka. “You’re gross,” he said. Sokka stuck his tongue out at him. 

“What are you two talking about so early in the morning?” It was Iroh, passing through the kitchen curtain on his way to his office.

Sokka twisted to face him. “We’re playing a game called ‘Zuko can find the negativity in anything,’” he said. “I give Zuko a subject and he finds all the problems with it. I thought of it while he was mad at me.”

“Why was he mad at you?” Iroh asked.

Zuko applied pressure to the rolling pin, flattening the dough. “He told me to be positive.” 

Iroh chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, stepping into his office and closing the door behind him. 

Sokka turned back around to watch Zuko, who had placed the bottom layer of crust into the pie tin and was now spooning the berry mixture he had made earlier in. His hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and several dark strands had fallen across his face. His shoulders were relaxed, his movements fluid as he poured. Zuko was always most comfortable when he was baking, and Sokka could watch him do it for hours. 

There was a smear of berry filling on Zuko’s arm. His very, very toned arm. Seriously, all that dough rolling kept him in _very_ good shape. 

“I think I’m going to try to make a design on this one,” he said, setting down the bowl and grinning up at Sokka. “But the last time I tried Ms. Fang and her knitting club made fun of me, so I’m not sure if I can risk it.” 

Sokka stared down at his smile. There were a lot of things Sokka wanted to say, like, _I know you’ll keep trying anyways_ , or _your hair looks great,_ or _I think I might be falling in love with you and it’s really freaking me out, dude, so if you could stop looking at me like that that would be really great._

“Fuck the knitting club,” Sokka said.

Zuko snorted and moved away, going to pick up the strips of dough he’d cut out earlier. “Those are our best customers you’re talking about.”

Sokka shifted on the counter, watching Zuko lay the dough on top of the pie. “Yeah,” he said. “Hey, you’re not doing anything on New Years Eve, right?”

Zuko quirked an eyebrow. “No, but thanks for that assumption.”

“No, I didn’t mean-”

“Kidding,” Zuko said. He was laying the strips on top of each other, weaving them in a complicated latticework that made Sokka’s head spin if he tried to look at it too long. “Why?”

Sokka kicked out his foot, examining the tip of his shoe. “I throw a New Year’s Eve party every year. You should come.” 

“Yeah, right,” Zuko said with a chuckle. He picked up a paring knife and glanced up at Sokka. His smile faded. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Sokka said, feeling a little insulted. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not really a party person, Sokka.”

“So?” Sokka watched as Zuko bent over a scrap of dough and started carving out shapes. “Katara isn’t either, and she makes it work.” 

“I’m not sure that Katara would love that comparison.”

Sokka reached out to poke Zuko in the arm, jarring his dough-cutting. Zuko looked up with a scowl. “Quit it,” he said.

“Then stop saying shit like that. Look, if you don’t want to come, that’s fine.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? C’mon.” Sokka pushed his bottom lip out and said, “Please, Zukooooo.” 

Zuko mumbled something. 

“You gotta speak up, dude.”

“I’ve never been invited to a party before!” He looked up at Sokka, his mouth thinning, and dropped the knife down on the counter. “Why did I just tell you that?”

“Hey, no, sorry,” Sokka said, realizing that he had sort of just been staring at Zuko with his mouth open. “It’s just- really?”

“I wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular in high school.” Zuko placed the carved dough on the pie. He was scowling, but there were spots of pink high in his cheeks.

“Well,” Sokka said. “I guess the pressure is on for me to throw the best party ever, then. I mean- if you want to come.”

Zuko paused. He looked up at Sokka, his expression wary. 

“Alright,” Zuko said. He smiled, just a little. “I’ll go.”

Sokka grinned. “Good.”

Zuko spun the pie around so Sokka could see it better. “What do you think?”

Sokka slipped off the counter, turning to press in close to Zuko. He looked down at the pie. Zuko had carved delicate leaves and woven them into the latticework, making it look like it was sprouting.

Sokka glanced at Zuko out of the corner of his eye and said, “It’s beautiful.”

Zuko’s shoulder was warm against his. “Thanks,” he said, picking it up and heading towards the oven. “Let’s hope it stays that way, I’m really not in the mood to be bullied by a bunch of old ladies.”

Sokka watched him walk away, and then sighed. He turned to start gathering up the dirty dishes.

Slow and steady wins the race, and all that.

X X X X X

Hakoda found Sokka in the living room, curled up on the sofa next to the fire. He looked up when his dad stepped into the room. He could hear the sounds of Katara and his grandmother cooking in the kitchen. 

“Hey, Dad,” he said, flipping to a blank page in his sketch book to cover what he’d been working on. 

“Hi, Sokka. Mind if I join you?” 

Sokka shifted to make room. His father sat down next to him, groaning as he leaned back into the cushions.

“Your grandmother is a menace,” he said. “Did you know she gave me three separate lists of chores today?” 

Sokka grinned. “Pakku hurt his wrist,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to be exploited for the rest of your vacation.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what’s your excuse?”

“I’m her precious grandson,” Sokka said, making Hakoda chuckle.

“I’ll have to try that one some day.” He nudged Sokka with his shoulder, throwing his other arm up over the back of the sofa. “How was work?” 

“It was great,” Sokka said. “You would really like the Jasmine Dragon, you need to visit before you leave.”

“I’d love to drop by.” The smell of curry drifted slowly into the room from the kitchen, the sharp spices already biting at Sokka’s nose. “Katara said that you work with a boy from high school- Zuko?”

“Whatever she told you about him was a lie.”

Hakoda raised his eyebrows. “She told me that he’s a very nice young man.”

Sokka blinked. He relaxed his shoulders. “Oh,” he said. “That one’s true.”

His father’s gaze made Sokka’s face warm up. His fingers twitched over the empty page on his sketchbook, wondering if his father somehow knew what was underneath it.

Hakoda said, “Tell me about him.”

Sokka looked up. His father was smiling, his eyes glinting in the firelight. Sokka heard Katara and his grandmother laughing in the kitchen.

“He’s amazing, Dad,” Sokka said. “He’s- sweet, and awkward, and really, really funny. I didn’t trust him at first because he- he was going through a lot of shit, I think, in high school, and he took it out on the people around him. But he changed. He’s- kind, now, probably one of the kindest people I know. I’m,” Sokka said, because everything he said felt wholly inadequate for what he actually felt. “I’m really glad that we ended up working together.”

“Well,” Hakoda said, letting all of that sink in. He gazed into the fire. The corners of his mouth were turned up in a small smile. “He certainly does sound like a nice young man.”

Sokka brushed his thumb along the edge of his sketchbook.

“How’s Suki?” Hakoda asked.

“She’s good,” Sokka said. “We, uh, broke up. For good this time.”

“Oh.” Hakoda looked at him. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Sokka shook his head. “It’s alright,” he said. “It was mutual.”

“Ah,” Hakoda said. He reclined further against the cushions behind him. “Has anyone else caught your eye, then?”

Sokka looked down at the empty page. He curled his fingers tighter around his pencil and drew a tiny square in the corner of the paper. 

“Actually,” he said, “yes.”

He added a circle above the square. His father said, “You’ll have to bring her over for dinner before I leave.”

A triangle. A little squiggle. “What if,” Sokka said. A heart. He drew a line through it. “What if it’s a he?”

The fire crackled in the fireplace, dancing high in the grate. Sokka put down his pencil and stared down at the marks he’d drawn.

“Well, then,” Hakoda said, “you’ll have to bring him over for dinner before I leave.”

Sokka’s throat tightened. He looked up at his father to find Hakoda already smiling at him.

Sokka grinned back. “Thanks, Dad.”

Hakoda reached out to clasp Sokka’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Hakoda!” Gran Gran was ancient, but her lungs could _carry_. “The sink is leaking again, come and fix it!”

Hakoda winked at Sokka. “Duty calls,” he said, getting to his feet with a grunt. “See you on the other side.”

Sokka threw up a salute. Hakoda chuckled and shook his head as he turned go back into the kitchen.

Sokka flipped the page in his sketchbook and looked down at what he’d been working on. He tapped his pencil against his leg, looking over the drawing. 

When Katara poked her head into the room and told Sokka to come to dinner, he carefully closed it and went to join his family.

X X X X X

Aang wanted to say something.

He was twitching as he watched Sokka push his coffee table to the other side of the room to serve as the snack table. He fiddled with a bag of chips, chewing hard on his bottom lip as he bounced his weight from one foot to the other like he was trying to juggle himself. 

“That’ll work,” Sokka said. He looked critically around his living room, which he had carefully cleaned so that any breakable objects were out of the way. “Alright, will you come help me with the lights?”

Aang walked over. He dropped the bag of chips on the coffee table and picked up the other end of the string lights.

“They’re color-changing,” Sokka said, walking over to the wall. “I got them at Walmart.”

Aang watched Sokka reach up to stick a thumbtack in the wall. Sokka looped the lights around it and shuffled down to repeat the process. Aang trailed after him, a jumble of lights in his hands, wordlessly handing them over when necessary.

Finally, Sokka took a step back, hands on his hips as he assessed his work. “Dope, right?”

“I’m going to kiss Katara tonight.”

Sokka raised his eyebrows. “That’s great, buddy,” he said. “Seventh time’s the charm.” 

Aang’s face was bright red. “I’m serious,” he said. “I’m going to kiss her at midnight.”

“Aang,” Sokka said, “Aang, buddy, pal, friend-o-mine- you say this every year.”

“I mean it this time!”

“Alright.” Sokka reached out to ruffle Aang’s hair. That was one good thing about Aang’s decision to break from family tradition and grow hair- Sokka got to touch it. “I’m rooting for you.”

Aang grinned and ducked away from Sokka’s lingering hand. “Thanks,” he said. “What about Zuko?”

“What about him?” Sokka asked, walking towards the kitchen with Aang trailing after him.

“Are you going to try and kiss him at midnight?”

Sokka scoffed. “No,” he said. “That’s a rookie move.” He paused midway through grabbing a bottle of vodka out of the bag of supplies he’d gotten earlier. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Aang said. He leaned back against the counter and watched Sokka open the bottle. “So you’re not going to try anything tonight?”

“I didn’t say that,” Sokka said. “I have a twelve-step plan to get Zuko to fall in love with me. I’m currently on step four.”

Aang frowned. “How long will that plan take?”

“Dunno.” Sokka had already laid out a collection of novelty shot glasses. He grabbed one that looked like a cactus and poured a measure of vodka into it. “But it’s already been very effective. Trust me, I’ve got this.”

“It sounds like it would be better to just talk to him.”

Sokka shook his head. “Trust me, this plan is foolproof,” he said. “Operation ‘Woo Zuko’ is well underway and _thriving_.” He gestured at Aang with his shot glass. “You sure you don’t want to break sobriety tonight? A little bit of liquid courage?”

Aang pulled a face. “That smells like rubbing alcohol.”

“It pretty much is.”

“Yeah,” Aang said. “I’ll pass.”

Sokka shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said. He raised his glass in a toast. “To us trying to get our shit together.”

Aang grinned as Sokka threw back the shot. It was strong and it burned going down, making his eyes water. He grimaced and put the shot glass back down on the counter.

“Fuck,” he said. “Alright, let’s do this.”

X X X X X

Sokka draped an arm around his sister’s shoulders, leaning heavily on her as he said, “Did you see Haru’s got a mustache now?” 

Katara reached up to grab his wrist, keeping Sokka secure even as he wobbled. She was smiling, the blue lights bouncing across her face. Loud music pounded around them, courtesy of Teo’s speakers, which his father had enhanced to be even louder than last year. 

“Yes,” she said. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Sokka hummed. He looked around his tiny apartment, which was packed full of people, mostly old classmates from high school and friends of friends of friends. Across the room Toph was telling a story to a group of guys that all shouted excitedly every time she pounded her fist into her hand. The Duke- Sokka couldn’t remember his real name, or any of his friends’; they’d started going by nicknames in middle school and somehow it had stuck- had climbed onto Pipsqueak’s shoulders and looked like he was trying to execute complicated dance moves in time to the music. 

Sokka sipped his drink, which was just fruit punch with a very generous serving of vodka in it. He wasn’t drunk yet, but his head felt delightfully fuzzy.

“How are we holding up?”

Sokka spun around, dragging Katara with him. “Suki!” He let go of his sister to throw his arms around Suki. She smelled woodsy, like a pine tree. “How are you!” 

Suki laughed and patted his back. “Not as good as you,” she said. “Thanks for inviting the girls, it’s so good to see them all again.” 

“No problem,” Sokka said. “It’s not a party without the Warriors. Hey, maybe we can play a game of soccer later!”

He mimed kicking a ball, spilling some of his drink onto his hand. Suki snorted. Behind him, Katara said, “I’m going to go find Aang.”

Sokka glanced over his shoulder to make sure Katara was gone, then leaned in close to Suki and said, “Aang’s going to go for it tonight.”

“Again?” Suki grinned. “Do you think he’ll go through with it this time?”

Sokka shrugged. Across the room, Toph was shouting, jabbing her fingers in the air as the group of guys around her howled with laughter. “Dunno,” he said. “I hope so! It’s so annoying watching them dance around each other.”

Suki took a long sip of her drink. She swallowed and said, “Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

“He just needs to go for it, you know?” Sokka clenched his fist in the air, miming grabbing something. “Seize the night!”

“Hm,” Suki said. Her eyes caught on something over Sokka’s shoulder and she grinned, quick and sharp like she did when she was scheming. “I think it’s time to practice what you preach, lover boy.” 

She shoved Sokka’s shoulder, forcing him to turn around. He felt his heart jump straight into his throat when he saw Zuko stepping through the front door, looking around like he’d walked into the wrong apartment.

Sokka turned back to Suki, an apology on his tongue, but Suki was already shaking her head. “Go,” she said. She raised her drink. “Good luck.”

Sokka leaned in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, Suki,” he said.

He got to Zuko just as he was closing the door behind him. “Zuko!” 

Zuko looked up. His hair was down, falling just right across his eyes. He was wearing a dark shirt and flowy crimson pants cinched tight at the waist. A little overdressed for a house party, but Sokka’s breath stuttered when he saw him.

“Hey,” Zuko said.

Sokka stopped in front of him. He grinned. “Hey.”

Zuko smiled. “There’s a lot of people here,” he said, raising his voice over the sound of the speakers.

“It’s not every day we get to celebrate a whole new year!” Sokka reached out to wrap an arm around Zuko, drawing him further into the room. “C’mon, let’s get you something to drink! Do you drink?”

“Azula and I have been stealing from our father’s liquor cabinet since we were twelve.”

Sokka whistled. “You started early,” he said. He dragged Zuko across the room, weaving through the clustered groups of people to the kitchen, which was empty. The light was on here, bright and too fluorescent after the dim living room. 

Sokka grabbed a red cup out of the stack he’d set up and said, “What do you want?”

“Whatever,” Zuko said. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he watched Sokka pour fruit punch. Sokka tried to focus on not spilling the fruit punch instead of Zuko’s gaze on the side of his head. 

Sokka added the vodka. “I hope you like your drinks strong,” he said, picking it up and handing it to Zuko.

Zuko’s fingers brushed Sokka’s as he took it. Sokka watched as Zuko raised the cup, tipping his head back to drink. He took several long sips before lowering it again. His lips glistened, and Sokka tried not to stare at them.

“I’ll,” he said, “I’ll get you a refill.”

He refilled both his and Zuko’s drinks, and then grabbed the other boy’s hand. “Come on,” he said, tugging him towards the doorway. “Let’s go talk to people!”

Zuko let Sokka pull him back into the party. Sokka scanned the people there, trying to figure out who would be the funnest to talk to. Katara and Aang were sitting together on the couch, heads bowed very close to one another, and Sokka definitely didn’t want to disrupt whatever was happening _there_. Suki was standing in the corner with the girls from her soccer team, looking at ease as she talked and laughed with them. The Duke had gotten off of Pipsqueak’s shoulders, but now was trying to do handstands on the snack table.

“Haru!” Sokka dragged Zuko over to a small group of people chatting in the corner. “Haru, hi! Do you remember Zuko?”

Haru turned. Sokka was still jarred by his mustache; Haru had only been a year older than him in high school, but the facial hair kind of made him look like a single father. 

He glanced at Zuko, expression startled. Sokka threw an arm around Zuko, tugging him close to his side.

“Yeah,” Haru said. He smiled politely. “It’s good to see you again, Zuko.”

Next to him, Zuko nodded. He looked a little tense, and through the haze Sokka decided that that was not part of the plan and definitely not acceptable.

“Zuko is the best baker I’ve ever met,” he said. He knocked his hip against Zuko’s. “He makes all the pastries for his uncle’s tea shop.”

Haru glanced at Sokka’s arm around Zuko, and his expression loosened, smile relaxing into something a bit more genuine. “What’s your uncle’s tea shop called?” he asked. 

“The Jasmine Dragon,” Zuko said.

“No way! My dad goes there all the time.” He sipped at his drink, then said, “What have you been up to since high school?”

“Sokka!” Sokka turned to see a few of his old teammates from the lacrosse team waving at him from across the room. He raised his glass back at them, and felt something poke his arm.

“Go talk to them,” Zuko said, nodding towards them.

Sokka said, “Are you sure?” 

“I’ll keep him company, Sokka,” Haru said with a smile. Sokka looked him over closely, debating it for a moment before nodding. Haru was chill, and straight, which meant it was probably okay to leave Zuko in his company.

“I’ll be right back,” Sokka said.

Zuko rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

Sokka let go of Zuko and turned away before he could do something stupid like kiss him goodbye. 

Sokka had several more drinks as the night went on. The closer it got to midnight, the rowdier the crowd seemed to get. Someone had turned on his television and dragged it to the center of the room so they could watch coverage of the ball dropping in New York. 

Sokka shouted for a little bit with his old teammates, reminiscing about their best games and laughing loudly when they brought up inside jokes he had forgotten. He stopped by to chat with Suki’s girls, and left when they started making fun of his ponytail. He even managed to talk to Aang and Katara for a few minutes until they started holding hands, at which point he bowed out because _gross._

He saw snatches of Zuko every few minutes. He spotted him chatting with Haru, laughing about something with Suki, getting dragged into conversation after conversation by Toph. Every time Sokka saw him he looked more relaxed, shoulders losing more and more tension and grin coming easier. 

Sokka was chatting with Teo and Pipsqueak the next time he spotted Zuko. He was sitting on the couch with someone- a girl, Sokka noted, and then he frowned, because the girl had very familiar fluffy brown bangs. He watched as Zuko snorted into his drink at something the girl said. One of his arms was thrown over the back of the sofa, almost around the girl. Sokka watched her touch Zuko’s hand, head bowed as she leaned in to say something.

“Gotta go,” Sokka announced in the middle of Teo’s story. He walked across the room, eyes fixed on the couch. He drained the rest of his drink, trying to keep his steps steady.

Zuko looked up when Sokka approached. His golden eyes glinted happily in the lights, which were now flashing purple.

“Sokka,” he said. He seemed to have also had quite a few more drinks since they had last seen each other. “Hey, Sokka, do you know Jin? She comes into the shop a lot.”

Jin looked up with a smile. She had round cheeks and big brown eyes. She was cute, if you liked that sort of thing.

“I’ve seen you around,” Sokka said. He tried to smile. It came out a grimace. “Hi.”

“Hi!” Jin crossed her legs. She was wearing a very short skirt, and her knees were very close to Zuko’s. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Haru invited me tonight, I hope that’s alright.”

Apparently Haru _was_ a threat. Sokka couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to trust him. The mustache had thrown him off.

“Oh,” Sokka said, waving a hand at her. “The more the merrier.” 

“Jin’s in school to be a vet,” Zuko said. The top button of his shirt had come undone. Sokka could see a small sliver of pale chest glowing blue under the lights. “Isn’t that neat?”

“Yeah,” Sokka said. “Super neat.” He tightened his grip on his empty cup and said, “Hey Zuko, can I show you something?”

Zuko’s smile widened. “Sure!” He stood up, keeping one hand on the back of the couch to steady himself. He turned to Jin and said, “I’ll give that article you mentioned a read. I’ll see you at the shop!” 

Jin’s smile was tight. “Alright,” she said. Sokka had to give it to her- she was very good at hiding her disappointment.

Sokka grabbed Zuko’s hand, not feeling the least bit sorry about it. “Bye, Jin,” he said, tugging Zuko away.

Everyone had gathered closer to the television, where the announcers were talking in front of a glowing countdown clock displaying five minutes. Sokka spotted Aang and Katara in the corner; Aang was bouncing up and down on his feet, face screwed up into an expression of pure panic as Katara craned her neck to try and see the screen.

Zuko’s hand was warm in Sokka’s. Sokka pulled him past everyone, aiming down the hall towards his bedroom. He pushed open the door, dragged Zuko inside, and then closed it behind him.

The quiet was deafening. They could still hear the music and the chatter of all the guests, but it was muffled by the door. Sokka had left a single lamp on in his room, casting pale yellow light across the space.

“Why’re we in your room?” Zuko asked.

“Huh?” Sokka turned to face him. He blinked slowly. He didn’t remember consciously making the decision to bring Zuko here. All he knew was that he hadn’t spoken to Zuko nearly as much as he’d wanted to tonight, and he was tired of everyone interrupting them, and he really didn’t want Zuko anywhere near Jin. “Oh, it was just getting a little loud out there.”

Zuko seemed to accept this. He leaned back against the edge of Sokka’s desk, setting his drink down beside him. He was holding himself looser than he usually did. He had pushed his hair back out of his face, and his grin didn’t have that tense, pinched look it sometimes got.

“You know,” he said, “I thought I would hate coming tonight.”

“Oh?”

Zuko nodded. “Way too many people,” he said. “But this is actually really fun.”

Sokka put his cup down on his bedside table. “I’m glad,” he said. “I knew everyone would love you.”

“I think having your stamp of approval helped,” Zuko said.

Sokka felt warm all over, skin prickling from the drinks and the heat of being pressed into a room with so many people for so long. 

“You look really good tonight,” he said.

Zuko’s cheeks, which were already red from the alcohol, went even brighter. “Thanks,” he said, ducking his head. Sokka’s heart pounded. _Follow the plan_ , he thought, but he couldn’t remember what the next step was. “So do you. I mean- you always look good, but- you look especially good tonight.” 

On the other side of the door, everyone yelled. Midnight was ticking closer, and Zuko was staring at his feet and blushing, and Sokka’s head swam with a sudden jolt of _want_.

He said, “I have something for you.”

Zuko watched curiously as Sokka walked over to his desk and pulled open a drawer, grabbing a yellow envelope. “What is this?” he asked, accepting it when Sokka handed it over.

“Your Christmas present,” Sokka said. “Sorry it’s a little late, I didn’t finish in time.”

Zuko frowned. “Sokka, you didn’t have to get me anything.” 

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Just open it, dork.”

Zuko opened the envelope. He reached in and drew out the folded piece of paper, lips quirking into a curious smile. He unfolded the paper. Sokka’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

Zuko’s smile slowly faded. He stared at the piece of paper. “Sokka,” he said. 

Sokka swallowed. “It would have been ready for Christmas,” he said, because Zuko didn’t look like he was going to say anything else and Sokka had to fill the silence before he literally imploded because maybe he had miscalculated. “But I wanted to make sure I got your eyes right.”

It was a portrait of Zuko. It had taken a few weeks and several dozen drafts before Sokka had finally ended up with something that he was satisfied with. The Zuko in the sketch’s smile was endearingly awkward, hair brushed back to show off the neat, swooping lines of his nose, his lips, his throat. Sokka had spent hours shading his cheekbones, his scar. 

“Did you-” Zuko’s voice faltered. He was staring hard at the paper, eyebrows drawn together. “Did you draw this?”

“Yeah.” Sokka reached up to rub the back of his neck. The embarrassment was starting to settle in, cutting through the happy cloud of alcohol that had, prior to this, buffered his reality with faux courage. Nothing like a reality check to sober you right back up. “You- you’ve got a really good face to draw. That- okay, that sounds really weird, I just mean that you’ve got really good bone structure, and you’re very expressive, and your hair is surprisingly-”

Zuko swooped forward so quickly Sokka didn’t have time to process the kiss. The pressure was firm and brief and then gone as Zuko reeled back again.

“I,” he said. His eyes had gone wide. He was still holding the picture of himself, fingers so tight they were crinkling the edges. He looked suddenly very pale in the dim light.

Sokka stared at him. His lips were tingling, his mind scrambling because _this was not part of the plan_.

“I’m sorry.” Zuko looked mortified. He took one halting step back. “I’m so sorry." He turned and walked towards the door, footsteps quick and loud, and Sokka decided _fuck the plan_.

Sokka started walking, steadier than he thought he’d be able to manage. Zuko paused at the door and turned around, mouth open to say something else- another shaky apology, if his expression was anything to go by- but Sokka didn’t stop moving. He took one, two, three decisive steps forward, grabbed Zuko’s jaw to tilt his face up towards him, and kissed him. 

Zuko took a half-step backwards and Sokka followed him with his mouth, pressing Zuko back against the door. Zuko’s lips tasted like fruit punch and sour vodka. 

After a second, he felt Zuko kiss him back. Zuko’s arms came up to wrap around Sokka’s neck, pulling him even closer. Vaguely Sokka heard the sound of cheers, the _pop_ of the confetti poppers he tried and failed to ban every year, but his mind was on nothing but Zuko, who was kissing him back just as eagerly. He dropped his hands to grip Zuko’s waist, to tug him closer until their hips were pressed together.

“Sokka,” Zuko murmured when they had to pull back for air. They were both gasping, breath hot and heavy between them. Sokka dipped his head to kiss Zuko’s neck, to mouth at the skin just below his ear, and Zuko tipped his head back and gaspedand Sokka felt a great rush of warmth. “Sokka-”

His hands slipped to Sokka’s cheeks. His touch was fire, burning Sokka from the inside out as he lifted Sokka’s head to kiss him again, his mouth open and wet and hungry. Sokka let his hands wander; he had wanted to touch Zuko for _so fucking long_ , and now he couldn’t help but run his fingers over Zuko’s waist, his hips, wishing there wasn’t a shirt in between them, wishing for more, wishing-

Zuko pulled back. Sokka leaned in to rest his forehead against his, breathing heavily. Zuko’s arms were still around his neck, Sokka’s hands on his waist.

Zuko’s lips were bright pink. He stared at Sokka as he tried to catch his breath. 

Sokka said, “I’ve wanted to do that for awhile.”

Zuko dragged his thumb along Sokka’s jaw. “Sokka,” he said. He swallowed. “I think I might be hallucinating.”

“That would be the fruit punch,” Sokka said.

He leaned in to kiss Zuko again, slower, less desperate. Zuko’s lips were softer than Sokka had expected. Sokka didn’t know why he’d thought kissing a guy would be any different than kissing a girl. 

“Sokka,” Zuko breathed. 

Sokka leaned down to nose at Zuko’s neck. “If you keep saying my name like that,” he said against Zuko’s skin, “we are never going to make it back out to the party.”

Zuko’s fingers curled into the back of Sokka’s shirt. “You were planning on going back to the party?”

Sokka chuckled. He pressed a kiss to Zuko’s neck, lifted his head to kiss him again on the lips, and then pulled away. “We’re definitely going to get made fun of if we take any longer,” he said. 

“Hm,” Zuko said. “Toph will make fun of us regardless.”

“True,” Sokka said. He brushed his fingers through Zuko’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. “But the sooner we go back, the sooner I can kick everyone out and we can have the apartment to ourselves.”

Zuko grinned. Sokka couldn’t help but lean in to kiss him one more time. 

Sokka’s living room was loud when he and Zuko managed to extricate themselves from one another and leave Sokka’s bedroom. Everyone was a lot drunker; The Duke was on Sokka’s coffee table, waving a used confetti cannon in the air (and, yep, that was going to be a nightmare to vacuum tomorrow); Suki was in the corner with her Warriors, clutching her stomach as she laughed; Toph had apparently roped Haru into listening to one of her stories, and he was nodding politely as she threw her hands in the air to mime an explosion. 

Aang and Katara were standing apart from everyone else, hands entwined between them. Aang murmured something that made Katara laugh, and then leaned in to kiss her, sweet and chaste and lingering.

Sokka curled his fingers around Zuko’s. Zuko’s face pulsed with color as the lights danced around them. 

It took another hour for the party to start winding down. Sokka kept Zuko close to his side the entire time, even as they were drawn into other conversations. Occasionally Sokka would brush his fingers against Zuko's, and Zuko would smile at him, the expression small but elated. 

The Warriors were the first to leave. They filed out of Sokka’s apartment debating amongst themselves whether they would be going to McDonald’s or Denny’s, and as they passed by, Suki winked at Sokka. After that, everyone else began dissipating, until Sokka was waving The Duke and Pipsqueak goodbye at the door. He closed it behind them, and turned to look at Zuko.

He was standing in the center of the room. Empty cups and confetti and glitter ( _okay, seriously?_ ) were scattered around his feet. Sokka had already turned the music off, and the silence was overwhelming after the constant noise exposure. 

“Well, this is going to be a pain in the ass to clean up tomorrow,” Sokka said, toeing aside a half-crushed beer can as he walked over to Zuko.

“I can help,” Zuko said. 

“I wouldn’t be a very good host if I let you do that.” Sokka drew to a stop in front of Zuko and looked at him closely. Sokka hadn’t unplugged the lights yet. They glowed a vibrant, deep red. 

Sokka said, “Will you stay?”

Zuko’s smile was a little hesitant, but he said, “If you want.”

Sokka grabbed his hand and tugged him down the hallway.

When they reached his room Sokka shut the door and went to his closet. He dug out two old t-shirts and tossed one to Zuko.

Zuko glanced at it, eyebrows raised. “Nirvana?”

“Don’t diss the classics,” Sokka said.

He pulled on his own t-shirt- one of his lacrosse shirts from high school, now soft and faded with age- and carefully did not look as Zuko changed. Sokka yawned as he crossed over to his bed, falling down on the covers with a groan. 

“God, I’m tired,” he said, his voice muffled by the duvet. 

“Sokka?” 

Sokka rolled onto his side to look at Zuko, who was standing in the center of the room. The black Nirvana t-shirt was too big on him. He looked very out of place, standing there with his hands clasped in front of him and Sokka’s t-shirt swallowing him whole. 

Sokka held out a hand. Zuko’s lips twitched up into a smile, and he walked over to grab it- only to grunt when Sokka tugged him down on the bed.

“Sokka,” Zuko said, and there was a smile in his voice now as Sokka tossed an arm around his waist and dragged him closer. 

“Shh.” Sokka closed his eyes and nuzzled closer. He pressed his face into the back of Zuko’s neck, breathing in. His hair smelled like cinnamon. “Sleep.”

“Sokka, we should probably talk about this.”

Sokka pulled back. Zuko rolled over to look at him. For a moment they just stared at each other, faces inches apart. Zuko had a faint freckle under his right eye. Sokka wanted to touch it- and then he realized that he could, so he did, reaching out to brush his thumb across it. Zuko’s eyes slipped shut, turning his face into Sokka’s touch as Sokka laid his palm flat against Zuko’s cheek.

Sokka leaned in to brush his lips against Zuko’s. Zuko’s breath was warm. 

“Talk tomorrow,” Sokka murmured. “Sleep tonight.”

He felt Zuko’s lips shift into a smile under his. Sokka pressed into the kiss, hand coming up to wrap around Zuko’s waist, tugging him closer. Zuko’s arm curled around Sokka’s back, fingers brushing at his shoulder blades and drawing a soft sound from Sokka’s throat. 

Sokka pulled back. He leaned across Zuko to the lamp on his bedside table and turned it off, throwing the room into darkness. When he laid back down he drew Zuko close to him, closing his eyes as Zuko tucked his head down against Sokka’s chest.

Sokka fell asleep to the sound of Zuko’s breath, soft and even, and the warm weight of Zuko pressed against him. 

Yeah. Fuck the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: alcohol
> 
> :) 
> 
> I was having a rough day and I needed a little serotonin boost from finishing this chapter up and sharing it. I hope you all enjoyed!! I seriously appreciate all the support I got on the last chapter- it took me a long time to reply to all the comments, which is a wonderful problem to have. Thank you for almost 10,000 hits, I appreciate all of you and I hope you're having a wonderful day <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please see the end note for content warnings!

Zuko woke up in slow increments. His head felt fuzzy, and he was far too comfortable to contemplate moving away from the warmth he was wrapped in. He pressed in closer to his pillow, tightening his arm around it, and felt it sigh underneath him, which- okay, not his pillow, what the fuck?

Zuko opened his eyes, blinking lingering sleep out of them. The room was dark, which was cue number two that something was wrong, because in his own room Zuko woke up with the sun in his eyes if he stayed in bed too long. And he could tell that he’d overslept quite a bit; he felt groggy like he hadn’t in years, and his head was aching.

Sokka was in bed beside him. Zuko, who had at some point wrapped his arm around Sokka’s waist, carefully removed it and eased away to as respectful a distance as he could manage while still in the same bed.

Sokka was sprawled out, half on his back with his head tilted towards Zuko. He looked peaceful in sleep, snoring gently as he dozed. He’d probably stay asleep for awhile. He always woke late in the day, and he probably needed to sleep off everything they’d had to drink last night.

At the thought of alcohol, Zuko’s head pounded. He reached up to rub his temples, taking a long, slow breath. God, this was why he never drank.

He remembered the party last night, remembered the heady exhilaration of the drinks and the conversations he had been managing with people who actually seemed interested in what he was saying. He remembered Sokka’s gift, and seeing himself reflected back up at him, rendered with so much blatant fondness that Zuko had given into his impulse and fucked everything up.

Okay, everything after that had been pretty good, but Zuko also remembered- _we should probably talk about this_ \- and Sokka had just brushed it off, still clearly intoxicated, and Zuko had gotten into _bed with him even though Sokka couldn’t have known what he was doing_ -

Zuko got up, carefully, trying not to move too quickly. He crawled around Sokka, struggling not to get caught in the messy blankets, and slid off the bed.

Sokka sniffed and rolled over, arm falling across the empty space where Zuko had just been lying. Zuko’s chest ached as he watched him. He reached up to touch his lips, remembering the feeling of Sokka pressed up against him, warm mouth against Zuko’s throat, fingers tight on Zuko’s hips. He lot out a shaky breath.

Maybe it had been worth it, to experience it just once. 

As Zuko was leaving, he spotted something on the floor. He bent to pick it up, smoothing out the paper. It was the drawing that Sokka had given him last night. Even now, it made his throat catch; Zuko had spent twenty-one years looking at himself in the mirror, and he’d never seen himself the way Sokka had sketched him. Sokka’s Zuko was- friendly-looking, somehow soft despite the ugly scar. Under Sokka’s hand, even _that_ looked beautiful, somehow.

Zuko left the drawing on Sokka’s desk, laid out so he would be able to see it. He left the bedroom, closing the door carefully behind him, and went out into the living room. It was a mess of confetti and empty cups and bowls, and Zuko grimaced at the thought of Sokka having to clean it all up. He wished he could help, but he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to linger. 

Zuko started looking around for his shoes. He remembered Toph demanding that he take them off at some point last night, and he was pretty sure that she had thrown them somewhere. He retraced his steps, trying to remember her trajectory, and finally found them behind the couch.

Once he'd pulled them back on, he walked over to the front door, picking his coat off of the ground as he tried to figure out how long of a walk it would be back to his uncle’s house.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Zuko jumped and whirled around to see Sokka standing there with his arms crossed. Even though he was glaring, Zuko felt his heart jump at the sight of him.

“Are you seriously trying to do a walk of shame out of my apartment?” Sokka was clearly upset, but the effect was kind of ruined by how sleep-rumpled he still was. His hair was down, loose around his shoulders, and Zuko had to try very hard to focus on anything other than that.

“I wanted to let you sleep,” Zuko said.

“Bullshit.” Sokka held up something- the drawing of Zuko. “This was a _gift_ , dumbass. And you’re still wearing my shirt!”

Zuko looked down at what he was wearing. He blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry.”

Sokka scoffed. He turned and stomped into the kitchen. A moment later Zuko heard the loud _clank_ of a pan being slammed down.

Zuko wavered, glancing back at the door, and then decided that he needed to stay and do some damage control. He walked across the room and turned the corner to look into the kitchen. Sokka was digging through a cupboard, his shoulders tense as he searched for something.

“What are you doing?” Zuko asked.

Sokka pulled out a yellow box. “I’m making myself pancakes,” he said. “I was planning on making you some, too, but apparently you’ve been trying to hatch an escape plot all night.”

Zuko flushed. “That wasn’t what I was doing!”

“Oh, really?” Sokka pulled out a bowl and a spoon. All of his movements were very loud, and very angry. The drawing of Zuko was on the counter, face-down. “You didn’t even wake me up.”

“You were sleeping.” 

“That doesn’t give you the right to just sneak out without saying anything!”

Zuko took a half-step back, startled by Sokka’s volume. Sokka had never yelled before- he’d shouted, sure, but always just to punctuate his point, to draw more attention to himself. Zuko had never seen him yell because he was _mad_.

Sokka set down the box of pancake mix, which he’d been spooning into the bowl. He braced both hands against the counter and bowed his head, hair falling across to hide his face. Zuko heard him sigh.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t- sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Zuko said. He rubbed his wrist, trying to figure out what he could say that wouldn’t set Sokka off again. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have tried to leave.”

“No,” Sokka said. “No, it’s okay. I understand.” He lifted his head. He looked exhausted, mouth pulled down into a defeated frown. 

“Listen,” he said quietly. “I’m really sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to pressure you into staying.” 

Zuko blinked, startled. “Sokka,” he said, “you didn’t pressure me into anything. You- I thought you wouldn’t want me here when you woke up.”

Sokka’s brow furrowed. “I literally invited you to stay the night.” 

“When you were _drunk_.” Zuko wrapped his arms around himself, “You were drunk last night, Sokka, and I- I took advantage of you, and I shouldn’t have, and I’m so fucking sorry-”

“Hey.” Sokka walked towards him. His expression had eased a little, and Zuko was glad that he didn’t look quite so upset anymore. “What are you talking about?”

“I kissed you,” Zuko said, ignoring the flip of his heart. “You were drinking, and I wasn’t thinking straight- that’s not an excuse, I don’t mean- I shouldn’t have-”

Sokka kissed him. There were cool hands against Zuko’s cheeks, holding him steady. Sokka’s lips were warm and firm, exact in their movements, and when he pulled away Zuko had to force himself not to follow them.

“You’re an idiot,” Sokka said. He was smiling, hands still cupping Zuko’s cheeks.

Zuko frowned. He pulled away from Sokka and said, “I don’t get it.”

“I wasn’t black-out drunk, Zuko. I can hold my alcohol, you know.”

“But-”

“I thought _you_ were upset.” Sokka went back over to the pancake mix and resumed pouring it into a bowl like he hadn’t just taken Zuko’s world and flipped it several dozen times. “When I woke up and you weren’t there I thought I’d fucked everything up.”

Zuko stared at him. Sokka went over to the sink and poured some water into the bowl, eyeballing it with a flippancy that Zuko was a little insulted by.

“I thought you were straight,” Zuko said.

“Yeah,” Sokka said, stirring the water and the mix, “I thought I was, too. It turns out sexuality’s kind of a spectrum, did you know that? Toph explained it to me, there’s all these different attraction levels. It’s kinda cool.”

Zuko said, “So you- you’re not-”

“Zuko.” Sokka turned the stove on and then paused to look at Zuko, eyebrows raised. “I promise I’m not straight. I meant to kiss you last night, and I would like to do it again. A lot.”

Zuko watched Sokka check the temperature, holding his hand above the pan to feel for it.

“What are you doing?” Zuko asked.

“I’m making pancakes.”

“No, with the pan.”

“Oh.” Sokka frowned and turned the heat up a little higher. “I’m just waiting for it to heat up.”

“If it’s too hot when you put the batter on, it’ll burn.”

Sokka leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms, smiling a little bit. “Are you an expert at making pancakes now, too?”

Zuko’s heart was pounding. He walked forward, coming up alongside Sokka. He reached out to turn the heat back down.

“No,” he said. “But I’m better than you are.”

Sokka tilted his head to the side. He looked at Zuko, gaze heavy, and Zuko felt the attention prickle on his skin. 

“Go on a date with me,” Sokka said.

Zuko felt his lips twitch. “Is that a question, or a demand?”

“Depends,” Sokka said. “What’s your answer?” 

Sokka’s hair was longer than Zuko had thought. Zuko reached out to touch it, to brush it out of Sokka’s face, and his heart gave a little jump when Sokka sucked in a breath. 

God, Zuko wanted this. Never in a million years had he stopped to entertain the thought that Sokka could, somehow, be interested in Zuko. Now he was here, asking him on a _date_ -

“Hey, Zuko?” Sokka was still smiling, but he looked a little worried. “I’m really waiting on an answer, buddy, I don’t want to rush you, but-”

“Yes.”

Sokka blinked. “Yes?”

“Yes, stupid,” Zuko said. “Of course I’ll go on a date with you.” 

He was less surprised this time when Sokka kissed him, and now he was able to fully appreciate it. Sokka’s hands fell to Zuko’s waist, grounding Zuko as Zuko curled his arms around Sokka’s neck. Sokka was a good kisser, and Zuko felt a little lightheaded as his lips pushed against Zuko’s, slow and thorough.

“You know,” Sokka murmured into Zuko’s mouth, “we could just say fuck the pancakes and go back to bed.”

Zuko felt his eyes widen. “The pan!” He pulled away from Sokka and turned to yank the pan off the burner, turning the heat off. “It’s way too hot, fuck-”

He heard Sokka chuckling behind him, and turned to see him watching Zuko with a small smile. Zuko let go of the pan, feeling his cheeks burn, and said, “Sorry.”

Sokka shook his head. “You’re fine,” he said. “Why don’t you make breakfast, and I’ll get started cleaning up the mess in the living room?”

Zuko grinned, embarrassed. Sokka touched his arm briefly, gave his elbow a small squeeze, and then turned to go into the living room. 

Zuko listened to the sounds of Sokka cleaning as he made the pancakes. He had to fiddle with the batter a little bit, because Sokka had added way too much water, but soon he had two plates of decent-looking pancakes. He dug around in Sokka’s cupboard for a bottle of syrup, grabbed two forks, and went to take them out to Sokka.

Sokka was on his knees in the middle of the living room. He had pushed most of the trash into one corner, and was now hunched over on his knees, glaring at his carpet.

“Who the fuck sets off a glitter bomb in someone else’s apartment?” he asked.

“I think it was one of Suki’s girls,” Zuko said. He walked over and held a plate out to Sokka. Sokka looked up, face brightening as he took the plate, and then doubled back to grab Zuko’s wrist and lightly tug him down.

“I’m going to have to vacuum every square inch of this place,” Sokka said. He grabbed the syrup and dumped it over his pancakes, drowning Zuko’s work in flavored corn syrup. “Or maybe I’ll just move.” He glanced up at Zuko and said, “What?”

“Nothing.” Zuko took the syrup from him and poured just a little onto his plate, pointedly closing the cap with a _snap_.

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a snob,” he said. He cut off a piece with his fork and took a bite, and Zuko tried really hard not to react when he let out a moan.

“Jesus, Zuko,” he said. “I know I should have expected this, but you’re an amazing pancake chef.”

“It’s literally boxed mix.” 

“Yeah, but whenever I use that mix it ends up gross. These are perfect.” 

Zuko flushed. He tried a bite of his own, and had to admit that they _were_ pretty good.

“Hey,” Sokka said, dragging a piece of pancake through a puddle of syrup on his plate. “What are you doing today?”

“Nothing.”

Sokka’s grin was sharp, mischievous. “Wanna give up on cleaning, grab dead Appa, and watch Netflix?”

“Hmm,” Zuko said. “Tempting. Netflix, you say?”

“There will also be a lot of making out,” Sokka added helpfully.

Zuko’s heart did a happy little flip. “Extra tempting,” he said. He pointed his fork at Sokka. “We’re cleaning first, though.”

“But babycakes!”

Zuko pulled a face. “I’m not lying around in a sea of garbage. And don’t call me that.”

“Muffin?”

“I’m not a baked good, Sokka.”

Sokka’s cheeks dimpled with a grin. “But you’re as sweet as one.” 

Zuko smiled. He leaned forward, over their plates, to brush his lips against Sokka’s, touching just enough to feel Sokka’s soft inhale beneath him.

“Flattery won’t get you out of clean-up duty,” he whispered.

Sokka looked a little dazed when Zuko pulled back. He blinked, then narrowed his blue eyes. “So that’s how this is going to be,” he said. “Fine. I’ll clean faster than you’ve ever seen anyone clean before. I’ll clean so fast I’ll just be a blur.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Zuko said. Sokka grinned and took another bite of his pancakes. Zuko smiled back and mirrored him. 

They never did get around to cleaning, but Zuko was gracious enough to let it slide.

X X X X X

Going back to work the day after the new year was both easier and harder for Zuko. When Sokka arrived for his shift, Zuko didn’t feel that painful tug in his chest that he’d become accustomed to, those stray thoughts jabbing at him relentlessly about the impossibility of Sokka returning his feelings. 

(They still jabbed sometimes, even when Sokka was looking at him with undeniable fondness in his eyes, or pulling him behind the kitchen curtain to kiss him, quick as a sparrow- even then Zuko’s mind struggled to accept the reality it was being presented with, that Sokka actually _liked_ him). 

The problem was, now that Zuko had gotten a taste of what it was like, he was finding it very difficult to refrain from constantly trying to steal kisses from Sokka.

He might have been embarrassed by his desperation had Sokka not been easily matching Zuko’s sudden interest in the shop’s closets. During their first shift back together, they had waited just long enough for Iroh to go into his office and shut the door before slipping into the supply closet, shoving themselves in with the mops and buckets of rags so Sokka could press Zuko back against the shelves and thoroughly ruin him with his tongue. 

It was exhilarating, in a dangerous way. Zuko hadn’t done anything dangerous in years. He had plenty of experience sneaking around behind closed doors, but never with someone like Sokka, who didn’t seem interested in _taking_ anything from Zuko. They hadn’t gotten any further than kissing and pressing up against one another, but somehow every time Zuko stepped out of the closet he felt completely undone. 

“Hey.” Sokka came up alongside Zuko, setting a pile of dirty dishes into the basin. They were already a few days into their… whatever it was they were doing, and Zuko still felt butterflies writhing almost painfully in his stomach whenever Sokka smiled at him.

“Hey,” said Zuko, turning off the sink. The plate he had just rinsed dripped steadily into the drain. 

“You know,” said Sokka, “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who was hired to do the dishes.”

“You can help me dry if it bothers you that much.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Sokka said, but he picked up a dish cloth and took the plate from Zuko.

They worked for a moment in easy silence, pressed so close to one another their elbows touched every time either of them moved. Zuko cleaned and rinsed off the dishes, then handed them off to Sokka to dunk in the sanitizer and then dry. Every time he passed off a new dish, Sokka’s hand touched his- first light touches, and then Sokka was curling his thumb around Zuko’s wrist as he took a saucer, or brushing his fingers along Zuko’s knuckles.

“You know,” Zuko said, “I’m beginning to think you had ulterior motives for helping me.”

He looked up to find Sokka already watching him. His face was very close to Zuko’s, lips quirked in a cocky smile, and Zuko couldn’t help but remember this morning in the supply closet when Sokka had slipped under Zuko’s shirt, pressed a cold hand to his ribcage, and breathed in Zuko’s shivers. 

Zuko was about to do something very impulsive when he heard the familiar creak of the office door behind him. He jumped away from Sokka, fumbling with the cup he was holding. He gripped the sink’s nozzle and focused the water on the dish, shoulders tensed as he listened to the footsteps behind them.

“Hey, Iroh,” Sokka said, far too conversationally for Zuko’s comfort.

“Hello,” Iroh’s voice said behind them. “I was just coming to check on my two favorite employees to ask if you needed anything.”

There was a pause. Zuko rinsed crumbs off of a plate. About a foot away from him, Sokka dried off the cup Zuko had just handed him and said, “I think we’re good. Zuko?”

“We’re fine.” Zuko set the wet plate on the counter for Sokka to pick up.

“Okay,” Iroh said. There was a tinge of disappointment in his voice. “Well, you know where to find me if something does come up.” 

Zuko waited until Iroh’s footsteps faded away. He set down the plate in the basin, braced himself against the edges of the sink, and took a steadying breath. 

“Hey, Zuko?” Zuko glanced over to see Sokka polishing the teacup’s handle. He raised his eyebrows at Zuko. “Want to explain what that was about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Hm,” Sokka said. He stacked the dried cup on the counter with the rest. “I’m going to take a wild guess here and say that you haven’t told your uncle about us.”

Zuko grit his teeth. “What is there to tell?”

Sokka paused. “I don’t know,” he said. He picked up the plate Zuko had left out for him, his eyes carefully averted, and Zuko sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He turned to face Sokka, hip braced against the sink. “I didn’t mean that. I- no, I haven’t told Uncle.” 

Sokka dragged the cloth around the edges of the plate. “Why not?”

Zuko swallowed. “My family,” he said, and then paused, and then tried again, “my family doesn’t have the best- the best track record for this kind of thing.”

“You don’t think your uncle would support you?”

“It’s not that,” Zuko said. “Uncle is- he’s the only good part of my family left, since my mother left. I don’t think he would ever- but I can’t disappoint him, Sokka, I just can’t.”

Sokka set the plate down a little harder than necessary. “This is a disappointment?”

“No,” Zuko said quickly. He sighed, reaching up to press his hands to his face, forgetting that they were wet from the dishes. “No, I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry-”

Fingers touched his wrist, and Zuko let Sokka gently tug his hands down. Sokka was frowning now, forehead wrinkled with concern. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to push you. Of course you don’t have to tell your uncle until you’re ready. I just don’t really understand why you’re so nervous about it.”

“You can’t be gay in my family, Sokka.” Zuko pulled his hands away from Sokka’s so he wouldn’t feel them shaking. “I disgrace the family’s honor just by existing.”

Sokka’s eyes widened. Zuko turned away from him.

“I’m going to go clean tables,” he said. “Are you alright with finishing the dishes?”

“What? Yes,” Sokka said. “Zuko-”

“I’m fine.” Zuko smiled a little bit, but he still couldn’t bear to look at Sokka, so he turned and walked away before Sokka could question him further. 

Zuko’s chest felt tight as he walked across the room. He wiped his hands on his apron, grabbed a wet rag out of the sanitizer bucket by the doorway, and slipped through the curtain.

Iroh was standing behind the counter. He looked up from the paperwork he was going over as Zuko emerged, locking gazes with him. His uncle’s eyes were kind, and Zuko felt pinned to the floor by it, paralyzed by Iroh’s enduring warmth.

“Are you alright, Zuko?” Iroh asked, setting his pen down on the counter.

Zuko felt like he couldn’t breathe. He nodded, once, and then turned to hurry across the room to one of the empty tables, gripping the wet rag so tightly he left a trail of water drops behind him.

He felt Iroh’s eyes on him as he cleaned, and he didn’t relax until his uncle slipped back through the curtain to return to his office.

X X X X X

Zuko’s final semester started up quietly, but with a vengeance. He had taken on more semester hours than he usually did, squeezing in two extra classes to try and finish his degree requirements on schedule. It was only the first week and already Zuko felt like he was drowning in all the work he had to do, so much so he had to very reluctantly ask his uncle to cut back on his hours at the shop. Sokka had been disappointed, but it had only taken one glance at Zuko’s planner where he made notes about all of his assignments for him to agree that Zuko needed more time to deal with it all. 

At the end of his first week of classes, Zuko was exhausted. He snuck into the kitchen after finishing his micro-economics quiz, digging in the fridge to pull out a tupperware of leftover rice. He hadn’t made it to dinner that night, and he was so hungry his stomach was cramping.

He scooped the rice into a glass bowl and put it in the microwave. He shut the door, turned on the timer, and then turned to find his uncle standing in the doorway, watching him.

“I’m glad to see you eating something,” Iroh said. His reading glasses were tucked atop his head, almost lost in his grey hair. “I was concerned when you didn't join me for dinner.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Zuko said. He pulled a fork out of a drawer. “I was taking a quiz.”

“You work so hard, nephew,” Iroh said. He smiled. “Won’t you join me for a relaxing game of Pai Sho to unwind for the night?”

Zuko bit back a sigh. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was play a game of Pai Sho. Still, he’d barely seen his uncle in the last week, and he did feel bad about skipping dinner.

“Sure, Uncle.”

Iroh beamed. “Excellent,” he said. “Take your time eating. I will return to the living room to strategize.”

Zuko rolled his eyes as his uncle disappeared. The microwave beeped behind him, and Zuko went to open the door and take out the steaming bowl of rice. He ate quickly, even though the rice was too hot and burned the roof of his mouth, and when he was done he carefully rinsed the bowl in the sink and set it in the drying rack.

Iroh was already seated at the Pai Sho table when Zuko went out into the living room. He looked up from his tiles as Zuko approached. 

“Sit, Zuko, sit,” he said, waving a hand at the empty chair across from him. “Would you like some tea while we play?”

“I’m alright.” Zuko sat down in the seat, already debating whether it would be possible to throw the game and finish early. No, Iroh would know if he lost on purpose, and Zuko would probably get some speech about the ethics of cheating or always trying your best or something like that. “Would you like to go first?”

Iroh shook his head. “Please, be my guest.”

Zuko glanced down at the tiles neatly stacked in front of him. He brushed his fingers through them, searching for the right one, and then picked up the white lotus tile.

“Ah,” Iroh said as Zuko placed it on the board. “A solid opening move.”

“I learned from the best,” Zuko said, and felt himself relax slightly when Iroh smiled at him.

They played in silence for awhile. It was hard, because Iroh had long since stopped going easy on Zuko when they played together. After years of practice, Zuko was good enough to hold his own against his uncle, but Iroh always seemed to be one step ahead of him. Zuko had come to enjoy the challenge.

“How are your classes?” Iroh asked as he studied the board for his next move.

“Fine,” Zuko said. “They’re a lot of work, but I’m not having any trouble so far.”

Iroh placed down his wheel tile. “I can’t believe you’re only one semester away from graduating,” he said, rotating his pieces.

Zuko stared at his fingers as they moved deftly about the board. “Yes,” he said. “I’m eager to put my degree to good use.”

Iroh was quiet as Zuko assessed the board. It was late into the game and Iroh was thoroughly beating him, but Zuko spotted a good opening. When he placed down his orchid tile, Iroh’s lips quirked up in a proud smile.

“Smart,” he said. He reached out to move his white lotus tile. “And how is everything else going, Zuko? I feel as though we haven’t spoken in awhile.”

Zuko dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“No, dear nephew,” Iroh said. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad that you have been kept so busy with school and your friends.” 

Zuko curled his fingers in his lap. There was a small fire crackling in the fireplace. Zuko felt its heat on his back, clawing through his shirt. 

“Did I ever tell you where I got this Pai Sho table?” Iroh asked.

Zuko looked up, startled. “No.”

Iroh’s eyes stayed on the board as he spoke. “It was a gift,” he said. “From my son Lu Ten, for my fiftieth birthday. He had it custom-made in China and then escorted it back himself by boat.”

He laid his rose tile down close to the center of the board. The fire roared behind Zuko, suffocatingly warm now. 

“It’s beautiful,” Zuko managed to say around the tightness in his throat. 

“It is,” Iroh agreed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for what you did for me after Lu Ten passed.”

Zuko, who had been about to play another tile, froze with his fingers inches from the board. “What?” He looked up at his uncle. “What did I do?”

“My son’s death was hard on everyone.” Iroh bowed his head. Zuko set his tile down back in the pile. “Me most of all. There were moments after his passing when I believed I would never find happiness again. How could I be happy with my life when my son wasn’t able to experience his own?”

“Uncle,” Zuko said, but Iroh shook his head, silencing him.

“I was lost without him.” Iroh took a long, slow breath, eyes roaming over the polished wood of the table. “I tried to travel, tried to search for some meaning in what I was doing. I had resigned myself to a very long, very lonely existence. And then you came back into my life, Zuko.” 

Zuko bowed his head. He remembered this- he hadn’t known his uncle very well before Lu Ten’s death. The Iroh of Zuko’s childhood had been the sun, always warm and larger than life, but distant. Zuko had only ever seen him at holidays and special occasions, and although he had appreciated his uncle’s fleeting company, they hadn’t had any real conversations or interactions beyond surface-level pleasantries at formal gatherings as Zuko had grown up. 

And then, one day, nearly a year after Lu Ten’s death, Iroh had showed up on Ozai’s doorstep with a smile and a bag of souvenirs from his travels for Zuko and his sister, and for the first time since his mother had left someone had taken a vested interest in his well-being. It wasn’t very long after that that Ozai had kicked him out, and Zuko’s first panicked call to his uncle had been met with open arms and a room to stay in as long as he needed it. 

“I saw hope in you, Zuko,” Iroh continued. “For the first time since the death of my son, I looked at you and I saw hope again. Hope for what you were, and what you could be.” Iroh leaned across the table, eyes fixed on Zuko, his expression very serious. Zuko felt his breath coming shorter and shorter as he stared back, unable to break away from his uncle’s gaze.

“Ever since I lost my own son, Zuko,” he said, “I want you to know-”

“Uncle,” Zuko said, shaking his head. “You don’t have to-”

“Let me finish, please,” Iroh said lightly. He smiled a little bit. “Zuko, ever since I lost my own son, I have thought of you as my own.”

Zuko’s breath hitched. He gripped the edge of the Pai Sho table, bowing over it. The fire behind him was so hot Zuko feared that it would jump out and burn him from here.

“Zuko.” Iroh reached across the table, trying to take Zuko’s hand. “Zuko, I did not-”

“I’ve been lying to you,” Zuko choked out.

Iroh paused. “What do you mean?”

“My father,” Zuko said. He hunched his shoulders in. “My father didn’t kick me out because we had a business disagreement. He- I didn’t want to tell you-”

“Zuko, it’s alright.”

Zuko shook his head so hard it was almost painful. “No,” he said, “no, I need to- he kicked me out because he-” Zuko squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at the raw concern on his uncle’s face. God, he had lied to him for so many years; Zuko felt cold disgust crawling up his spine. “He caught me with a man.”

Iroh was very quiet. Zuko didn’t dare risk opening his eyes.

Zuko took a deep breath. His mouth felt dry. “I’m gay, Uncle.” 

The flames licked the grate behind him, hot, beckoning. Zuko listened as Iroh’s chair slowly scraped back, listened to the heavy footsteps get close to him, and Zuko curled away on impulse, hands coming up to hide his face.

“Zuko,” Iroh said. “Zuko, please look at me.”

Zuko dutifully dropped his hands back into his lap. He opened his eyes to find his uncle kneeling beside his chair, peering up at him. Zuko, expecting to find anger in his face, was startled to find him smiling.

“Zuko,” Iroh said. He reached up to gently cup Zuko’s cheeks with his hands, fingers brushing the edges of his scar. The light from the fire reflected in Iroh’s eyes, which were damp with unshed tears. “My dear boy. I am so _proud_ of you for telling me.”

Zuko let out a choked sob. He let Iroh draw him forward, out of his seat, until Zuko was kneeling in front of him, the wood floor hard beneath his knees. Iroh wrapped his arms around Zuko’s shoulders and Zuko fell forward, pressing his face into his uncle's chest as his shoulders shook.

“My boy,” Iroh repeated. He brought one hand up to stroke through Zuko’s hair. His fingers were shaking. “My brother is a hateful man. He has not yet learned the beauty in human decency. But, Zuko-” Iroh drew back so he could look Zuko in the eye. He was crying now, too. “Love is a beautiful thing. It doesn’t matter if it’s between man and woman, or woman and woman, or man and man. It doesn’t matter who you love as long as it is love that you are choosing.” Iroh brushed Zuko’s hair back, tucking it behind his ear. “No matter who you love- no matter what you choose in life- I will always love you as my own son. Never doubt that, Zuko.” 

Zuko let out another sob. Iroh drew him close again, curling his arms around him so Zuko was half in his lap. He made gentle shushing noises as Zuko cried, stroking his hair, his arm, whispering meaningless platitudes that Zuko soaked up like a sponge, clinging to his kindness.

“Have I ever told you,” Iroh murmured into Zuko’s hair, “why I named my shop the Jasmine Dragon?”

Zuko sniffed and shook his head, face still pressed into his uncle’s sweater.

“I started my little tea shop to mark a new phase in my life,” Iroh said. “Your father never understood why I would give up my position on the board to pursue a business in making tea. It’s not the most profitable venture, certainly, but it was always my dream, and it gave me hope.” Iroh squeezed Zuko tightly. “It needed a name to match that hope. Dragon, to symbolize strength and wisdom.” His fingers brushed Zuko’s shoulder. “Jasmine, because it’s your favorite kind of tea, and reminded me of you.”

Zuko went still. He pulled back to look at his uncle. Zuko felt raw, like he’d just been scrubbed clean from the inside out, and from the exhaustion on his uncle’s face, Iroh felt the same.

“You have worked so hard these past few years,” Iroh said. He beamed at Zuko, his smile watery and shaky. “I am so proud of you, Zuko.” 

Zuko reached up to scrub at his eyes, sniffing. He should feel embarrassed by his tears, but instead he just felt warm, like the fire behind him had soaked under his skin to warm him from the inside out.

“Thank you, Uncle,” he whispered.

Iroh squeezed Zuko’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to thank me for,” he said. He nodded at the Pai Sho table. “Now, what do you say we return to our seats? My knees are not what they used to be, and I’m afraid that if I stay here much longer I won’t be able to get back up.”

Zuko laughed. He stood up and offered a hand to his uncle, who took it and heaved himself to his feet with a groan. 

“A word of wisdom,” he said, crossing back over to his chair and sitting down heavily. “Do not get old, Zuko, it’s awful on your joints.”

Zuko sat back down in his seat. He felt suddenly exhausted, like someone had wrung him out like a wet rag and left him to dry.

“There’s, uh, one more thing, Uncle,” he said.

“What is it, Zuko?”

Zuko tugged on the sleeve of his shirt and said, “Sokka and I are- we’re not dating, yet, I don’t think, but we’re- together.”

Iroh smiled a little indulgently. “I have to admit that I guessed as much,” he said. “It has made me very proud to watch how close you two have become. I know you don’t need the opinion of an old man on your love life, but I think Sokka is a very fine young man.”

Zuko smiled, feeling his eyes prickle again. “He is.” 

Iroh chuckled. “And just think, if I hadn’t hired him, none of this would have happened.” He tapped the side of his nose. “I think I might have a promising career as a matchmaker,” he said, making Zuko laugh.

“I think you might,” he agreed.

Iroh drummed his fingers on the Pai Sho table. “I don’t know about you, but I’m far too tired to continue our game,” he said. “What do you say we go make a hot pot of tea and see if there are any _I Love Lucy_ reruns playing?”

“ _I Love Lucy_?” 

“What? It’s a good show.”

Zuko laughed again and stood up. “I’ll go start the water.”

“Oh, and if you brought home some of your scones from this morning, I would love some of those as well,” Iroh said, stretching his arms up and turning his face to the fire.

Zuko grinned. “Alright.”

He was almost out of the room when Iroh said, “Zuko?”

Zuko turned. Iroh was watching him with a fond smile.

“I love you very much, you know,” he said. 

Zuko felt something loosen in his shoulders. He smiled back.

“I love you too, Uncle,” he said. 

Iroh ended up coming to make the tea, because Zuko never had figured out how to make a perfect cup. There weren’t any reruns playing on television, but they found mindless shows to watch until late in the night, curled up on the couch together with a pot of tea between them, and for what felt like the first time in a very long time, Zuko let himself relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mentions of homophobia, past child neglect/abuse
> 
> Y'all I... I love Iroh so much. 
> 
> Also- wow, thank you for the overwhelming positive response to the last chapter. I'm behind on comments again but will be working through those soon! Thank you to everyone who has been promoting or sharing this story anywhere- seriously, it means a lot that you think so highly of this fic.
> 
> And thank you for the kindness in the last chapter :) I'm doing a lot better! I'm going on a short trip + moving in the next two weeks, so I'm not positive when my next chapter will be up- anticipate a little bit longer of a wait, but I'll be back with the next chapter as soon as I can. I was also considering writing a little one-shot to go along with this fic, so I will try and have that posted in the interim! 
> 
> Finally- more fanart! You are all SPOILING me with your talents, I'm always so excited to see your work. @sketchsmack on Twitter did these genuinely incredible doodles that (I'm not kidding y'all) are exactly how I imagined our boys: https://twitter.com/sketchsmack/status/1285730545020829697?s=20 . And @snap-apple on Tumblr did this amazing work of Azula in her outfit from chapter 8, and it is spot on perfect: https://snap-apple.tumblr.com/post/624285878991421440/modern-azula-from-its-the-illusion-of . Thank you all for your support and for sharing your amazing work with me!! 
> 
> Sorry this end note was so long, have a good day y'all!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please see the end note for content warnings!

Sokka rested his elbows on the corner of the table, leaning forward. Some grainy song from the 50s was playing over the diner’s speakers, filling the room with soft guitar music.

“Sokka,” Toph said from her seat next to him. “Quit shaking the table.”

Sokka stilled his leg, which he’d been bouncing anxiously. “Sorry,” he said.

Katara raised her eyebrows. She was seated across from him beside Aang, who had one arm looped around her. They had slipped into the more domestic aspects of their romantic relationship seamlessly, which Sokka wasn’t all that surprised by. Sometimes he forgot they’d only been dating for a week or so. 

“Nervous about something?” Sokka didn’t like the smirk on his sister’s face.

“Never,” Sokka said. He leaned back against the red plastic of the booth. “Just hungry.”

“Sure,” Toph said. “It has nothing to do with-”

A bell clanked as the front door open. Sokka looked over to see two familiar figures walk in, and felt his heart jump.

“And there he goes,” Toph said as Sokka hopped to his feet and went to meet them.

Zuko was grinning at something Suki said when he caught sight of Sokka approaching him. His smile widened, and Sokka couldn’t help but reach out to grab his face and kiss him.

Zuko’s hands came up to grab Sokka’s shoulders, holding him close as he kissed him back. Beside them, Suki said, “Gee, and I don’t even get a hello.”

Sokka pulled away from Zuko. He grinned a little bashfully at her. “Hey, Suks.”

“Whatever,” Suki said, but she was smiling as she went to join the rest of the group at the table.

Sokka looked back at Zuko. He had tied his hair up today, and was wearing a dark yellow sweater that almost matched his eyes. 

“That was an enthusiastic greeting,” Zuko said. His cheeks were bright red. 

“Yeah, well,” Sokka said. “I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“It’s been two days.”

“Too long.” Sokka leaned in to kiss him again, then grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the table.

“Thanks for the show, double dorks,” Toph said as Sokka slipped back into his seat beside her.

“You couldn’t even see it,” Sokka said. Zuko sat down next to him, close enough that Sokka could knock his knee against Zuko’s.

Toph wrinkled her nose. “It _sounded_ gross.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Aang said, shooting a gooey look towards Katara that made even Sokka want to gag. Toph shoved a finger down her throat and mimed throwing up. 

The waitress came over to take their orders, and Sokka ordered a burger for himself and a milkshake to share with Zuko. When they had gone around the table and put in their (extensive) order, the waitress disappeared back to the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving us, Suki,” Sokka said. He threw an arm over the back of the booth, just barely brushing Zuko’s shoulders.

“Sorry, but I kind of need my degree,” Suki said. 

“Does anyone really need a degree?” Toph asked, tipping her head back to gaze up at the ceiling.

“I forget if I asked,” Zuko said. “What are you studying, Suki?”

“Exercise and sports science.” Suki grinned. “I want to coach women’s soccer professionally.”

Sokka leaned in close to whisper loudly to Zuko, “That means she likes yelling at people.”

“I had to learn when I was dating you,” Suki shot back, which made Sokka laugh.

“Touché,” he said, shooting a finger gun at her. 

“College is boring,” Toph said to the ceiling. 

Zuko raised his eyebrows. “So what’s your plan, then?”

“Easy. I’m gonna be a tattoo artist.”

Zuko frowned. “But-” 

“Don’t listen to her,” Sokka said, rolling his eyes. “She’s studying criminology.” 

“Our legal system is bullshit,” Toph said with a shrug, sensing Zuko’s surprise. “You have to understand it to beat it.”

“She means she wants to help people,” Katara said, levelling a glare at Toph. “Not commit fraud.” 

“Nah, that’s your job, isn’t it, sugar queen?”

“It is not!” 

“Katara’s studying law,” Aang said quickly to Zuko before Toph could respond. He beamed at him. “I’m doing anthropology with a minor in religious studies. Aren’t you studying business, Zuko?” 

Zuko shifted so his shoulder was pressed against Sokka’s. “Yeah,” he said. 

“What do you want to do with that?” Suki asked.

“My father offered me a position at his company.”

“But is that what you wanna do, dorkus?” Toph asked.

Zuko looked at her for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said. 

Sokka brushed his fingers against Zuko’s knee. “Well I, for one, can safely say I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing,” he said cheerfully. He grinned at Zuko. “And I think that’s very sexy of me.” 

“You like the Jasmine Dragon,” Aang said.

“Sure I do. Hey, do you think Iroh would give me a promotion?”

“Over his nephew?” Suki asked, lips twitching in amusement. 

Sokka reclined back in his seat. “I’m way more popular with the customers.”

“You absolutely are not,” Zuko said, half-twisting in his seat to scowl at Sokka. Sokka thought it was cute, how indignant he could get sometimes, but he didn’t say that out loud because Zuko might kill him for it. 

“Ms. Fon has a crush on me,” Sokka said.

“She also has a crush on Uncle,” Zuko said. The table laughed as Sokka wrinkled his nose. 

The waitress came by with their food, and Sokka quickly and enthusiastically tucked into his burger and fries. Beside him, Zuko pulled the milkshake between them and leaned over to take a sip. Sokka tried not to stare at his lips around the straw.

“Why’d you get strawberry, Sokka?” Katara asked, stirring her own milkshake. “You hate strawberry.”

Sokka frowned at her. “I don’t hate it,” he said. “Anyways, it’s Zuko’s favorite, and I’m _thoughtful_.”

He glanced over at Zuko to find that he was already staring back. Zuko looked startled, eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

“How do you know that?” he asked, fingers still poised on the milkshake straw.

Sokka threw the hand he wasn’t holding a handful of fries in up in the air. “Why does no one ever believe I listen?”

Zuko’s expression softened. “I know you listen,” he said quietly.

God, he looked good with his hair tied up. Sokka leaned in to kiss him, quick and light, because he couldn’t help himself. He still couldn’t quite believe that this was something they were doing now. Sometimes it still felt like a daydream gone terribly right. 

He yanked his head back when something hit his cheek. He turned just in time to see a fry fall to the table, then turned to glare at Toph. “Quit it!” 

“Quit being gross!” 

“Katara,” Sokka complained, turning to his sister.

Katara didn’t look up from her chicken tenders. “Don’t throw things, Toph,” she said, leaning across Aang to dip it into his ketchup. He looked at her with a dopey kind of smile. Sokka had thought that finally making a successful move on Katara would calm him down a little bit, but the kid seemed as infatuated as ever. It was cute, in a weird way. 

“You’re not my mom,” Toph shot back.

Katara dropped her chicken back to her plate. “No, but apparently you’re a child.”

“Do you want some of my fries, sweetie?” Aang asked, angling his fry basket towards her. 

“Listen here, Glinda the good witch-”

“They’re not actually fighting,” Sokka said, leaning in close to whisper to Zuko, because Zuko had gone very stiff next to him while watching Katara and Toph swap insults. “They just like to argue.” 

“I know,” Zuko said, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Katara as she waved her hands angrily in the air to accentuate her point. 

The brief feud was resolved by Suki, who commented idly that this was technically _her_ going away lunch, and she didn’t want to listen to Katara and Toph bicker like children. Neither of the girls looked very happy with that description, but they stopped glaring at each other. The rest of the meal passed peacefully and pleasantly, and Sokka was disappointed when it was time to pay and leave.

“Do you need a ride home, Suki?” Sokka asked as they stepped outside the diner. It had snowed a little last night, so the sidewalks were covered in a thin layer of powder, but the sun was bright and crisp in the sky. 

“No,” Suki said, adjusting the strap of her tote bag on her shoulder, “the girls should be-”

She was interrupted by a loud honk. A green minivan had pulled up across the street, and Sokka saw one of Suki’s teammates lean their head out the driver’s window and wave enthusiastically at them.

“That’s my ride,” Suki said. She turned to start distributing hugs to Aang and Katara, and let Toph punch her on the shoulder and mutter something about not being a stranger. Zuko hung back, half-hidden behind Sokka, and looked surprised when Suki approached him, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him in for a hug.

Sokka thought he heard Suki whisper something to Zuko, but he couldn’t make out what it was. When she pulled away to grin at Zuko, his cheeks were red, but he was smiling. 

Suki turned to Sokka. Sokka swung his arms at his side and said, “So are you going to make this awkward, or should I do it?”

Suki’s smile was warm. “You’re the expert,” she said.

Sokka stepped forward and threw his arms around her. Suki hugged him back just as ferociously, squeezing him tight. She smelled like pine needles and sunlight rising over mountains. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he murmured into her hair. 

Suki pulled back so she could smile at him, keeping her arms twined around his waist. “We’ll always have World of Warcraft,” she said, dark eyes glinting.

Suki’s friend honked again. Suki brushed a hand over Sokka’s back.

“Take care of yourself,” she said.

“You too.” 

There were tears threatening Sokka’s eyes as Suki let go of him and waved at everyone. He watched her turn and cross the street, breaking into a jog as she approached the van full of waving teammates. 

Sokka felt someone step closer to him. When he glanced over his shoulder Zuko was there, expression sympathetic in an understanding kind of way.

“You okay?” he asked.

Sokka sniffed. “Yeah.” He rolled his shoulders back, turning his face up towards the sun. “Allergies, you know?”

Zuko chuckled. Sokka grabbed his hand, tugging him close, and Zuko obligingly wrapped an arm around Sokka’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

“Hey, dorks,” Toph said from behind them. “Wanna go get ice cream?”

“We just had milkshakes,” Katara said, but it sounded more like she was arguing out of principle than out of any actual disapproval.

Sokka brightened. “Ice cream!” He twined his fingers around Zuko’s and started pulling him down the sidewalk. “I know this really great place. They make it with liquid nitrogen, it’s like a science fair or fuckin’ NASA or something-” 

Zuko’s laugh was as bright as the sky overhead. Despite the chill, Sokka felt warm all over.

X X X X X

Sokka took a moment to assess himself on the doorstep. He checked his clothes- nice dark jeans, a blue button-down shirt Katara had ironed for him- then reached up to smooth back his wolf’s tail. He brushed his fingers against his earring once for good luck, then took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Seconds passed before it opened, and Sokka found himself looking into the smiling face of his boss. Not threatening at all. 

“Sokka,” Iroh said warmly. He opened the door wider and stepped back. “Come in!”

“Thanks, Iroh.” Sokka walked inside. He’d been to Iroh’s house before, but he suddenly felt very nervous. “How are you?”

“Oh, just fine,” Iroh said. He shut the front door and turned to beam at Sokka. “And you?”

Sokka’s fingers fluttered over the hem of his shirt. Maybe he should have worn something else- were plain shirts boring? “I’m great,” he said.

Iroh’s eyes twinkled. “That’s good to hear,” he said. He gestured towards the living room, where a fire was crackling happily in the fireplace. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll go up and get Zuko.”

Sokka went to sit on the couch as Iroh disappeared. Sokka really liked Iroh’s place. It kind of felt like an extension of the shop, right down to the teaset on the coffee table. 

Sokka leaned back against the cushions, then thought better of it and sat up straight, trying to fix his posture. He tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch, glancing around at the walls. There were a few paintings hung there, done in the same traditional Chinese style that Iroh favored for his office.

There were framed photos, too, but Sokka couldn’t see those clearly from the couch. He glanced behind him to ensure that he was still alone, then jumped up and crossed the room to look.

The first was a framed portrait of a young man in uniform. His expression was staunch and serious, but his dark eyes looked kind. He bore a strong resemblance to Iroh in the curve of his brow and nose. 

The other picture was a much less formal one. It had been taken outside at some kind of pond, and there were a few different people in it. In the center was a beautiful woman with dark hair, who was crouching down to wrap an arm around a young boy. Behind them, a little girl was standing on the shore of the pond, gazing back at the camera with a flat expression. She wasn’t smiling. In fact, the insolent expression looked vaguely familiar, and Sokka had to pull back and look more closely at the boy in the picture because if _that_ was Azula, then this had to be Zuko.

He had to be no older than eight or nine, hair tied back into a ponytail, one hand clinging to the woman’s arm. His face was clear and unscarred, alight with a broad smile as he beamed up at the camera.

Sokka didn’t know that much about Zuko’s childhood, but it was weird to see him like this- young, happy. No scar. He was adorable, but it didn’t really sit right with Sokka. 

Behind him, the wooden stairs creaked. Sokka turned away from the pictures and returned to the center of the room just in time for Zuko and Iroh to enter. 

Sokka opened his mouth to say something, then shut it abruptly. Zuko looked great, obviously- dark black shirt, okay, plain was okay- but his hair had been smoothed down on either side in a style Sokka had never seen him wear before. 

Despite the silly hairstyle, Sokka found himself grinning. “Hey,” he said.

Zuko smiled back. “Hey.”

Iroh took a long, deep breath, then clapped his hands together. “That is my cue to get out of your way,” he said. “Sokka, have my nephew back by ten o’clock, please.”

Zuko shot him a look. “Uncle.”

Iroh shrugged. “Let an old man try,” he said. He winked at Sokka, then turned and left the room.

The fire crackled behind them as Sokka approached Zuko. Zuko shoved his hands in his pockets, looking horribly awkward as he peered up at Sokka through his bangs.

Sokka stopped in front of Zuko and held out his hand. “Ready?”

Zuko looked at it, then looked up at Sokka. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and wrapped it around Sokka’s. “Yeah,” he said, his smile soft.

Sokka led the way out of the house and down the sidewalk. The sun was just setting, casting the sky overhead in oranges and pinks that bled together like dripping watercolor. 

Sokka opened the passenger door of his car for Zuko. He felt a tug of embarrassment when the handle stuck briefly, but Zuko’s pleasantly surprised expression when Sokka gestured dramatically to his seat made the move worth it. 

“Where are we going?” Zuko asked when Sokka had come around the other side and slid into his seat.

“It’s a surprise,” Sokka said. “But first-” He turned in his seat to face Zuko, then reached up to ruffle his hair, pushing his fingers through whatever gel or styling products he’d piled on there.

“Hey,” Zuko said. He looked annoyed, but he didn’t pull away from Sokka. “It took Uncle ten minutes to do my hair.”

“I think Iroh should stick to making tea.” Sokka ran his fingers through Zuko’s now-ruffled hair and then leaned in to kiss his rumpled expression. “There,” he said, pulling away. “Now you look like yourself, cutie.” 

The lighting was dim in the car, but Sokka could still tell that Zuko’s cheeks were pink. “Shut up and drive,” he said, making Sokka laugh. 

Sokka let Zuko pick the music, because Zuko hated it when Sokka fiddled with things while he was driving (even though Sokka was perfectly capable of multi-tasking, thank you very much). He settled on a very generic acoustic station- not exactly Sokka’s vibe, but halfway through the drive Zuko slipped his hand into Sokka’s, so it was already shaping up to be a very successful date. 

“Sushi,” Zuko commented as Sokka pulled up in front of the restaurant. It was a small hole-in-the-wall place with a bright neon sign hanging above the door, casting pale blue light into the car. It made Zuko look as though he was bathed in moonlight. “Good choice.”

Sokka turned the engine off. “A little birdie told me it was your favorite,” he said. 

“A little birdie, huh?”

“A little blind birdie.”

They stepped out of the car, and Sokka led the way up the curb to the front door. He opened it for Zuko, who looked visibly amused as he let Sokka chauffeur him into the space. 

It was just as small inside as it looked on the outside, and very crowded. There were several people waiting in chairs by the front door, and beyond that Sokka could see almost all the tables were occupied.

He threw a grin at Zuko before approaching the podium by the door, where a woman was scribbling something in a notebook.

“Hi,” he said, resting his elbow on the podium and beaming at her. “I have a reservation for two under Sokka, spelled S, okka?” 

Behind him, Zuko snorted. The hostess looked a little less impressed, but she glanced down at her notebook and said, “Let me notify your server.”

She turned and disappeared deeper into the restaurant. Sokka turned back to Zuko, who was watching him with raised eyebrows. “S, okka?”

“Hey, okka is the best letter in the alphabet.”

The hostess returned a moment later with a man who picked up a few menus and gestured for them to follow him. He led the way through the tight space, weaving between dim tables full of people enjoying their meals. There was music playing overhead, but Sokka almost couldn’t hear it over the babble of conversation.

“Thanks,” Sokka said when the waiter set the menus down on a table in the corner. They were tucked into the far back, far enough away from the bulk of the other patrons that it felt relatively private.

“This is really nice,” Zuko said, looking around as he sat down across from Sokka.

Sokka grabbed a menu and slid the other over to Zuko. “Hey, I’m a classy guy.”

Zuko nodded. “Right,” he said, flipping his menu open. “That’s why I found you washing your hair in the sink at work a few weeks ago.”

Sokka felt his face heat up. “I told you, I got tea in it!” 

“You almost fell in.”

“Because you scared me! That one’s on you.”

“Sure it is,” Zuko said with a grin. 

The waiter returned to take their drink order. Sokka glanced down at the menu listing various types of alcohol that he didn’t recognize, trying to find something familiar. His confusion must have shown on his face, because Zuko turned back to the waiter and said, “We’ll have a large hot sake and water, please.”

“Thanks,” Sokka said when the waiter left. “Y’know, I haven’t had sake before.”

“Really?”

“I’m more of a Four Loko I stole from my friend kinda guy.”

Zuko pulled a face. “You’ll like this,” he said. “Uncle doesn’t drink often, but when he does he gets this really nice sake imported from Japan. I’m sure this stuff isn’t the same caliber, but it costs enough to be decent.”

“Ah,” Sokka said with a sigh, leaning back in his seat. “I love it when you get pretentious.”

Zuko flipped to another page in his menu and shot a look at Sokka. “It’s not pretentious to have basic good taste.”

Sokka tipped his head back and said, “Ugh, don’t stop!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Zuko said, but he was smiling. Sokka grinned and sat up straight again, opening his own menu.

“Is this a bad time to mention that I’ve only ever ordered California rolls?” he asked, glancing over the rows of food.

“You _what_?” If Zuko had been mildly surprised before, he looked downright scandalized now.

Sokka shrugged. “Katara really liked sushi when we were growing up, so I had to do the opposite and hate it. Sisters, you know?” 

From the bewildered expression on Zuko’s face, he didn’t know. “California rolls, though?” He shook his head, mouth pinched. “Absolutely not. We’re getting you something else. What do you like?”

“I like chicken,” Sokka offered helpfully. 

Zuko just shook his head. “I’ll order for you.”

Sokka, who might have been annoyed if someone else had done this, just grinned. He had taste-tested enough for Zuko that he trusted his opinion.

Zuko ended up ordering several rolls: spicy tuna, unagi, and something called the Omashu roll that he hadn’t seen before but looked curious about.

“Well,” Sokka said after the waiter had written down their order and whisked it off to the kitchen. “I’m ready for a feast.”

Zuko picked up his polished wooden chopsticks and started fiddling with them. “Sorry, I’m a little, uh, passionate about sushi.” 

“And I’m passionate about eating.” Sokka rested his elbow on the table and grinned at Zuko. “We make a good match.”

Zuko smiled back. The lighting overhead was low but there was a candle flickering in a small dish on their table, casting red light across Zuko’s features. It made him look like he was glowing from within.

“This is nice,” he said softly.

“I know,” Sokka said. “Not that I don’t love hanging out with my little sister and the children, but it’s nice when it’s just us.” 

Zuko twirled his chopsticks in his hand. “Yeah,” he said. “You know, I keep thinking I’m going to wake up one day and this will all be a dream.” 

Sokka tilted his head to the side to regard Zuko, who was staring down at his chopsticks. “What do you mean?”

The candle flame jumped, sending a shadow skittering across Zuko’s cheekbone. “Oh, you know,” he said. “You’re… you. And I’m,” he gestured vaguely at his face.

Sokka leaned back in his seat. “No,” he said, “I don’t know.” 

Zuko’s brow furrowed. “Let’s not do this.”

“What are we doing?”

“Seriously, forget I said anything.”

“No,” Sokka said. “What’s this about? Is this about your scar?”

“Please drop it, Sokka.”

“I’m not trying to pressure you into talking about it or anything, but I hate when you say shit like that. I happen to quite like your scar.”

“I said drop it!” 

“Hot sake?”

They both turned to look up at their waiter, who was standing there with a tray full of glasses. Sokka cleared his throat and sat up straighter, shooting a grin at him.

“Thank you so much,” he said as the waiter set down a glass of water in front of each of them, a large ceramic vase-type thing, and two small white cups.

When he left, Sokka picked up his water and sipped at it. Across from him, Zuko stared down at his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m not- I’m not used to talking about it.”

Sokka set down his water. “You don’t have to,” he said. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to push, but I care about you, Zuko. I want you to be able to talk to me about this kind of stuff, if it helps.”

“I know,” Zuko said. “And I- I want to. I trust you, of course, but I haven’t really talked about this with anyone, not even- not even Uncle.” 

Sokka nodded slowly. He wanted to know the circumstances behind Zuko’s scar, behind his family, more than anything. As well as Sokka had come to know Zuko, he was still incredibly hard to understand, and Sokka couldn’t help but think that some missing piece to the puzzle lied in that story. 

His instincts also told him that it wasn’t a particularly pleasant story, though, and he didn’t want to sour the mood for the night.

“Alright,” he said. He gestured towards the cups in front of him. “Wanna take shots?”

Zuko’s strained expression broke into a small smile. “These aren’t shot glasses,” he said. He picked up the ceramic vase and leaned across the table to pull Sokka’s cup closer to him. “You have to sip it.”

Sokka watched as Zuko poured a neat measure of the drink into the cup. “I could definitely slam that back.”

Zuko shook his head and slid the cup back over with the ease of someone who’s worked with cups of tea for years. “Try it first before you do that.”

Sokka picked up the small cup, which was so hot it prickled his fingers. He took a sip of the hot liquid, and was pleasantly surprised. It was a little bitter, but smooth and warm and comforting. Sokka could feel the heat in the back of his throat when he swallowed.

Sokka set the cup down and whistled. “Hey, that’s pretty good!” 

Zuko sipped at his own drink, and nodded. “It’s not bad,” he said. “We’ll rope Uncle into giving you some of the really good stuff soon.”

“I’ll bet Iroh’s hilarious when he’s drunk.”

Zuko’s grin turned a little wicked. “I hope you like the tsungi horn.”

Sokka raised his eyebrows. “The what now?”

“You’ll see.” Zuko picked up the vase again and filled Sokka’s cup back up. “Tell me about your family.”

Sokka smiled. Now _that_ was an easy topic of conversation. “Well, you know Katara,” he said. “It’s always been the two of us together, for as long as I can remember. Our mom raised us because our dad was away for most of the year- he’s in the navy, I told you that, right? Anyways, our mom was pretty much raising us on her own, before-” Sokka drummed his fingers against the table. He took another sip of his sake, then set the cup back down. “She died when I was ten. She got hit by a drunk driver. Katara was in the car with her, but she was okay, thank god.”

Zuko was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry, Sokka.”

Sokka shook his head. “It’s okay. Katara was the one who was really shaken up by it. I mean, she was there, and she saw it, so of course- and she was always really close to our mom, so- it hit her really hard. I don’t know, I was kind of just focused on making sure she was okay, for awhile.” 

He felt something touch his hand, and looked down to see that Zuko had leaned across the table to slip his hand into Sokka’s. He looked terribly uncertain about the move, but determined, and Sokka felt a great rush of fondness as he curled his fingers around Zuko’s and squeezed. 

“I’m okay,” he said. “I just miss her, you know?”

“Of course you do,” Zuko said. “It sounds like you had to be the strong one for Katara. That’s hard.”

Sokka shrugged. “We do what we have to for our families, right?”

Zuko gripped his hand a little tighter. “What happened after that?” he asked.

“Dad came back to be with us for a little bit,” Sokka said. He brushed his thumb across Zuko’s knuckles. “He had to go back to work, though, because now he was the only one supporting us. My Gran Gran took Katara and I in.” Sokka grinned. “She’s really cool, you’ll like her.”

“I’m sure I would.” 

Sokka squeezed Zuko’s hand, then brightened, remembering something. “Oh, I forgot! My dad’s on leave right now, so he’s at home for a few more weeks. Do you want to come to dinner?”

Zuko frowned. “Dinner?”

“Yeah, to meet my dad and Gran Gran! I’ve told them all about you, and now they want to meet you.”

“Really?” Zuko released Sokka’s hand and sat back in his seat, looking startled. 

“Yes, really,” Sokka said, teasing just a little bit. “I don’t want to lose any cool points, but you’re kind of all I’ve been talking about since my dad got back.”

“You don’t have any cool points,” Zuko said, sounding distracted. He scratched his arm, thinking it over. “When?” 

“Next week?”

“Wow,” Zuko said. He met Sokka’s gaze, golden eyes glinting in the candlelight. “Uh, alright.”

Sokka beamed. “Really?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Sokka’s grin widened. He reached across the table to grab Zuko’s hand again, squeezing tight.

Their sushi came soon after that. Sokka tried every roll. The Omashu roll turned out to be stuffed with tempura shrimp and drizzled in a dozen different kinds of sauce, but Sokka especially like the unagi roll, which was sweet and soft. Zuko ate most of the spicy tuna roll, and admitted quietly that he didn’t particularly like spicy tuna, but his mother had ordered it every time they went out for sushi, so he always got one out of habit. He spoke fondly, if sparsely, of his mother. Whatever shit he’d gone through with the rest of his family, it was clear that while she had been around, Zuko had loved her immensely.

When they were finished and appropriately stuffed, the waiter came back around to clear their plates, and Sokka ordered a variety plate of mochi that Zuko had been eyeing on the dessert menu. They spent a good amount of time doing blind taste tests and providing commentary on each flavor. Zuko delivered his assessment like a celebrity chef on a television show, while Sokka just smacked his lips and moaned enough to make Zuko blush and throw a napkin at him.

When the check came, Zuko went to reach for it. Sokka snatched it away and glared at him.

“Bad Zuko,” he said. He pulled out his wallet, digging around for his credit card. “Stay.”

“Sokka, we can split the bill,” Zuko argued. 

Sokka shook his head and slapped his card down. He didn’t even want to look at the receipt, even though he had carefully budgeted for tonight. Best to leave that for later in the month when he had to pay his bill. 

“This is a date, Zuko.” He handed off the bill and his card to the waiter when he passed by. “That means I get to pay, and in return you sit there and look pretty. You’re doing an excellent job.”

Zuko flushed. “Fine,” he said. “But I’m paying next time.”

Sokka grinned. “You’re so sexy when you’re pushy.”

The waiter returned a moment later with the bill, and Sokka signed it and pocketed his card. Zuko led the way out of the restaurant, weaving between tables that were still full despite the late hour. He opened the front door for Sokka, who was grateful to slip out into the cold night air.

“You know,” he said, pulling his keys out and unlocking the car doors. “I think sushi’s already starting to grow on me.”

“See?” Zuko grinned over the top of the car. “So much better than a regular burger, right?”

Sokka pointed at him warningly. “Hey, you watch it.”

They got into the car, which Sokka turned on quickly, hitting a few switches to turn the heat on. It wasn’t completely freezing, but it was cold enough that he could feel it sinking through his jacket. 

Zuko was quiet while Sokka drove. Gentle acoustic was still playing over the radio, and Sokka let the comfortable silence sit, because Zuko looked like he was lost in thought and Sokka didn’t want to disrupt that. He drove the car smoothly, lazily, not bothering to rush as he turned corners and wove his way through the streets back towards Iroh’s house.

When they pulled up, Sokka parked the car. He didn’t move to get out, and neither did Zuko.

“Thank you for dinner,” Zuko said.

“You’re welcome,” said Sokka. He draped his hands lightly across the steering wheel. “I had a really good time.”

Sokka could see Zuko’s smile even in the semi-darkness. “Me too,” he said. “You clean up nicely.”

“I live to surprise,” Sokka said. He leaned across the center console, and Zuko came to meet him in a kiss. Zuko’s lips were warm, a little chapped from walking around in the snow. He tasted like green tea mochi. Sokka brought a hand up to cup Zuko’s cheek, brushing his thumb around the rough corners of his scar, pushing Zuko back against the seat.

Zuko made a soft noise in the back of his throat that sent all of Sokka’s blood rushing south. For the millionth time Sokka wanted to jump him right there, but he had promised himself that he was going to do this right and take it slow, as painful as it was.

Sokka pulled back, but kept his hand on Zuko’s face, cradling his cheek. Their breaths were heavy and loud in the quiet of the car. 

“My Gran Gran’s going to be excited to cook for you,” Sokka said, because he was an idiot and that was the first thing he thought of.

Zuko smiled. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Yeah,” Sokka said, trailing his fingers along the curve of Zuko’s cheekbone, then up to brush his hair behind his ear. “It’ll be fun, I’ve never introduced a boyfriend to her and my dad.”

Zuko’s smile dropped. “Boyfriend?”

Fuck. “Uh,” Sokka said. He let go of Zuko, pulling away. “Sorry, are we not-? I just kind of assumed, shit, I don’t-”

Zuko moved forward so quickly Sokka barely processed it. He grabbed Sokka’s hand in both of his, pulling it close, gripping his fingers as he looked at him earnestly. His eyes were wide and pale in the low lighting.

“No,” he said, “I didn’t mean- you want me to be your boyfriend?”

Jesus, Zuko’s self-esteem was way too low. Sokka brought his other hand up to hold both of Zuko’s.

“Of course I do,” he said. “Only if you want it too, of course.” 

Zuko nodded, ruffled hair bouncing. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I would love that.”

Sokka laughed. Before Zuko could get embarrassed, he leaned in to kiss him again, shifting his knee so he could more comfortably lean forward. Zuko brought his hands up to grip the collar of Sokka’s shirt, tugging him closer, lips sliding across Sokka’s. 

After a few wonderful, perfect, incredible moments, Sokka pulled away, panting a little. “I,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “I kind of promised your uncle that I would be a gentleman to you, but that’s going to be really hard if we keep doing that.”

Zuko grinned, sharp. He was an entirely different person than he’d been in high school, but sometimes Sokka could still see glints of that mischief in him, without any of the cruelty. 

“I wouldn’t want to get in the way of you being a gentleman,” he said. His hand wandered up to grip Sokka’s ponytail and give it a tug, and Sokka jerked away on reflex, ignoring the warm tingles it sent rushing through his body.

“Alright, you need to get out of my car,” he said, making Zuko laugh.

“Fine,” Zuko said, pulling on the door’s handle. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Sokka said. Before Zuko could leave, he leaned across to kiss him one last time, slower and sweeter than before. When he pulled away he saw his own goofy grin reflected on Zuko’s face, and was struck once again by how beautiful Zuko was. 

Zuko eased the door open. “Bye,” he said.

“Bye,” Sokka said, watching him slip out and close the door behind him. He continued to watch Zuko walk across the front lawn. When he got to the front door he paused long enough to wave at Sokka, then disappeared inside the house.

Sokka curled his fingers around the steering wheel and took a deep breath. He tipped his head back against the seat, staring up at the roof of the car with a grin. After a moment, he laughed out loud.

He was totally fucked, and he was totally okay with it.

X X X X X

Sokka was doing dishes in the back of the shop when the curtain was ripped open and a small, angry-looking girl stomped over to him.

“Hey, dingus,” Toph said. “We need to talk.”

Sokka raised his eyebrows. “I’m kind of doing my job right now, Toph.”

Toph crossed her arms. Raising her voice, she shouted, “Yo, Iroh! Can I borrow Sokka for a bit?” 

There was a moment of silence, then Iroh’s voice drifted through his open office door: “As long as you return him in one piece!”

“Traitor,” Sokka called out, letting Toph grab the front of his apron and drag him past Iroh and his loud chuckles.

It was the middle of Wednesday, and the shop was very slow. A mother and her daughter were having tea and pastries in the corner, but other than that the other tables were empty. Zuko wasn’t working, and Sokka had spent most of his day cleaning and doing odd jobs around the shop.

“I’d like to start off by saying I didn’t do it,” he said, dropping into an empty seat.

Toph sat down across from him. “Shut up,” she said. She jabbed a finger at him. “What are your intentions with Zuko?”

Sokka blinked. “What?”

“You heard me, muscle tank.”

Sokka reached up to rub his bare shoulder. “Hey,” he said, a little hurt.

Toph rolled her eyes. “Baby.”

“Toph, what are you talking about?”

“You and Zuko are canoodling now,” she said, “and I just wanted to check in.”

“I’m sorry,” Sokka said, waving his hands in the air to try and stop whatever momentum Toph had going for her. “Is this a shovel talk?”

“Call it whatever you want.” 

“Toph,” Sokka said, “we’ve been friends for seven years.”

“Seven years too long.”

“Why are you giving _me_ this talk and not _Zuko_?”

“Bold of you to assume I haven’t already talked to him.”

Sokka glared at her. “I’ll bet you were a lot nicer to him.”

“Oh,” Toph said, her expression blank. “I absolutely was. See, Zuko’s been through a lot of shit, and he could very easily fuck this up, and so could you.”  
“You know, Toph,” Sokka said, “this really isn’t any of your business.”

“Actually, it is. Zuko’s my friend, and I don’t want to see him get hurt because you did something stupid. _You’re_ my friend, and I don’t want to see you get hurt because Zuko is emotionally stunted and did something stupid. So yes, it is my business to inform you both that I will kick your respective asses if you hurt each other.”

Sokka leaned back in his seat and looked at Toph. Whatever defensiveness he’d initially felt was bleeding away, because he _had_ known Toph for seven years, and he knew how she got when she was overprotective.

“I’m not going to promise I’ll never hurt Zuko,” Sokka said, “because that’s impossible. But I can promise that I’ll never hurt him on purpose, and I’ll try my hardest to make it up to him if something does happen. I care about him.”

Toph sniffed, lips pursed tightly. “I guess that’s the best I can ask for.”

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Now that you’re done threatening me,” he said, “can I please go back to work?”

“Hold up, can’t I get some free tea or something?”

Sokka snorted and stood up. “Yeah, no,” he said, pushing his chair back in. “Go bum some tea off of Iroh.” 

He made it halfway back to the kitchen before Toph shoved past him to get ahead. “Yo, Iroh, can you make me some tea?” she asked, flying through the curtain.

Sokka snorted and shook his head. Okay, his friends were nosy little assholes, but at least they cared.

X X X X X

“Sokka, come fix the table!”

Sokka groaned. He pushed himself off of the sofa, where he had been reclining for a solid thirty seconds, and went to find his grandmother in the kitchen.

“Gran Gran,” Sokka said, leaning against the doorframe and watching her. He had already set the kitchen table twice to meet her exacting standards, and she was now fluttering around his work while she finished off dinner with a manic kind of energy. “The table looks great.”

“The napkins aren’t straight,” Gran Gran said, waving a spatula in Sokka’s direction.

Sokka sighed. He walked over to the table and started straightening the napkins.

“Where’s Katara?” Gran Gran asked, yanking open the oven and peeking inside.

“You told her to clean the bathroom.”

Gran Gran frowned at him. “I did?” She wiped her hands off on a dish towel and said, “Well, tell her to come back, I need her help here.”

Sokka dropped a napkin and walked over to his grandmother. “Hey, Gran Gran,” he said. He grabbed her free hand, squeezing it gently and bowing his head to smile at her. “Thank you for all of this work. Zuko’s really going to like it.”

Gran Gran pursed her lips. “Well, he’d better,” she said. She batted at Sokka’s shoulder with the towel. “Now stop trying to flatter me and go fix your hair, you look like a ballerina.”

Sokka sighed again and left, grateful for the escape. 

He was readjusting his ponytail in the dark screen of the living room television when his dad came down the stairs, footsteps heavy on the creaking wood. He was wearing a nice cream button-down with a row of black stitched palm trees around the middle- definitely something Gran Gran had gotten him- and had tied his hair back neatly.

“Did you know,” Hakoda said, walking behind Sokka to drop into an armchair. “That your grandmother made me clean my own bedroom three times? As if we were going to be eating in there.”

“Yeah, she made Katara do that, too,” Sokka said. “She thinks the whole house needs to be spotless, like Zuko’s going to care or something.”

“You can’t blame her for that,” Hakoda said. “It’s been a long time since you introduced us to someone you’re dating. She’s excited.”

“She’s a menace,” Sokka said.

“She has ears!” Gran Gran called from the kitchen.

Hakoda winced in fake sympathy. “Not the precious grandson now, huh?” he murmured. 

“You too, Hakoda!”

Sokka stuck his tongue out at his dad, who was now wincing for real. 

There was a knock at the front door. Sokka jumped to his feet, excitement brimming even as his grandmother said from the kitchen, “He’s early! I haven’t put the bannock in yet- Katara!”

“Coming, Gran Gran,” Katara’s voice called from upstairs. 

Sokka started for the front door, then turned and jabbed a finger at his father. “Stay there.”

Hakoda raised his hands in surrender and settled back in his chair. 

Sokka rushed through the living room, turning the corner to the front door. He grabbed the doorknob and yanked it open.

“Oh, hey sweet thang,” he said, leaning casually against the door and grinning at Zuko.

Zuko looked severely unimpressed. He also looked great- hair tied up in a neat topknot, red shirt tucked in just the way Gran Gran liked. He certainly knew how to play to his audience.

“If I wasn’t about to throw up, I would hit you,” Zuko said. 

“Oh, don’t be nervous. You look great! What’s all this?”

Zuko looked down at his hands, which were full of a bouquet of yellow flowers and a bottle with Japanese characters all over it.

“They’re gifts,” he said. “It was Uncle’s idea. Are they alright?”

“Well, I’m not the biggest flower guy, but I do like alcohol,” Sokka said, reaching for the bottle.

Zuko shifted it out of his way and frowned at him. “The flowers are for your grandmother and the sake is for your father.”

Sokka stuck his lower lip out in a pout. “Then what did you bring for me?”

“My sparkling personality,” Zuko said with a straight face.

“Mm, you know how to make a guy swoon.”

He stepped back to let Zuko inside and shut the door behind him. At the same time, heavy footsteps pounded on the stairs- Katara coming down, hair flying behind her. She was dressed nicely in a simple blue dress, with their mother’s necklace tied around her neck and a pair of earrings Aang (with copious amounts of help from Sokka) had given her at Christmas swinging from her ears. 

She spotted them out of the corner of her eye, and changed course. Sokka, who had been expecting at least some measure of disapproval from Katara- for what, who knew at this point- was surprised when she went immediately to Zuko and threw her arms around him.

“It’s great to see you, Zuko,” she said, squeezing him tight while still minding the flowers and the bottle. Zuko’s expression, poking over Katara’s shoulder and half-hidden by her hair, looked even more surprised than Sokka felt. 

“Oh,” he said. “You too, Katara.” 

Katara pulled back and smiled at Zuko. Sokka had never loved his sister more. 

“I need to go help Gran Gran with dinner,” she said, “but I’ll be back out in a bit.”

As she turned to go, she caught Sokka’s eye. She paused, smile softening, and nodded once at him before disappearing off to the kitchen.

“Um, Sokka,” Zuko muttered behind him, “what just happened?”

“I told you she’d come around,” Sokka said. He snagged Zuko’s elbow and tugged him towards the living room. “Come on, let’s get introductions over with.”

Hakoda was still dutifully sitting where Sokka had left him, but he stood up as they approached. His smile was warm, and whatever lingering, persistent doubts Sokka had had about his father being okay with this sudden gender switch in Sokka’s partners were squashed when Hakoda said, “So this is the famous Zuko.”

Sokka rolled his eyes and stepped aside to make space. “Zuko, this is my dad,” he said. “He promised he wouldn’t do anything embarrassing tonight.” 

“I always keep my promises,” Hakoda said. He looked kindly to Zuko. “It’s nice to meet you, Zuko.”

Zuko ducked his head in a low bow. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” He straightened up just enough to hold out the bottle of sake. “This is a gift from my uncle.”

Hakoda glanced at Sokka and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, a gift,” he said, taking the bottle and appraising the label. “You’ll have to thank him for me. No one’s ever gotten me something this nice.”

“Hey, what about my Christmas present?” Sokka asked.

“Macaroni art was much more impressive when you were six.”

Sokka laughed. He waited for Zuko to join in, but when he looked over, Zuko’s face was grim.

“Handmade presents do tend to be more personal, sir,” he said.

Hakoda’s smile faded a little. “Certainly,” he said. He quirked a grin at Sokka. “Thank you very much for the macaroni art, Sokka. I’m sure Bato enjoyed his, too.”

Sokka stuck his nose up. “As he should.” 

A few seconds of very awkward silence ensued before Gran Gran, with all the grace of divine intervention, walked into the room with a dish towel in hand.

“Sorry about that,” she said, wiping her hands off and slinging the towel over her shoulder. “I was finishing off dinner. You must be Zuko.”

Zuko turned quickly to Gran Gran. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said, dipping into another one of those graceful bows. This time he straightened up with a small smile and offered the flowers to Gran Gran. “I brought you flowers for the table.” 

Gran Gran took them, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Well, aren’t you a charming one?” She brushed her fingers over a bud and grinned at Sokka. “I approve.” 

Zuko smiled for the first time that night, looking pleased. 

“Gran Gran,” Katara said, coming back into the kitchen, “I put the vegetables into the oven to keep them warm.”

“Thank you, Katara,” Gran Gran said, still stroking the flowers. “I’m going to go find a vase for these.”

Gran Gran left the room. Without anything to keep his hands busy, Zuko opted for clasping them behind his back, which looked terribly uncomfortable.

Hakoda set the sake down on the coffee table. “Come sit down, Zuko,” he said, walking over to the armchair.

Zuko crossed the room and sat stiffly down on the sofa. Sokka followed him, ignoring his father’s pointed look in favor of sprawling down next to Zuko. Katara went to perch on the arm of their father’s chair, a seat she’d favored as a child. 

“So, Zuko,” Hakoda said. “You work with Sokka at the Jasmine Dragon, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Zuko said. “I’ve been helping my uncle there since I graduated high school.”

“Please, call me Hakoda.”

Zuko opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything at all.

“Zuko does all the baking for the shop,” Sokka said. He elbowed Zuko’s side gently, grinning at him. “If I come early enough he lets me taste test them.”

“Zuko says Sokka steals when he’s not looking,” Katara said to their father.

Hakoda shook his head. “Zuko, does your uncle let my boy terrorize you?”

The couch cushions shifted as Zuko sat up straighter. “Not at all, sir,” he said. “Sokka’s an excellent worker. Very hardworking and thorough.” 

Katara looked at Sokka, and years of silent communication across the dinner table let Sokka read her expression, which was just as bewildered as Sokka’s probably was. 

If Hakoda was as taken aback as Katara and Sokka were, he hid it much better. “I’ve no doubt he is,” he said. “Sokka’s always been very hardworking.”

“Hey, thanks Dad,” Sokka said. “Not sure where this energy was at my seventh grade art show, but better late than never, I guess.” 

Hakoda looked exasperated. “You weren’t allowed to hang up your macaroni art in that museum, Sokka.”

“Worst betrayal of my life,” Sokka said to Zuko. Again, instead of the laugh Sokka was expecting, Zuko’s lips just twitched up briefly before fading back into a flat expression. 

Sokka hesitated, glancing over at Katara again. Yet again- seriously, sent from God, that woman- Gran Gran walked into the room, smiling at all of them.

“I need to plate dinner,” she said, “but I refuse to be the only one stuck in there. Zuko, would you give me a hand? Sokka said you’re good in a kitchen.”

“Just baking, ma’am,” Zuko said, but he jumped to his feet and quickly crossed the room.

“It’s better than any other help I’d get around here,” Gran Gran said, turning to lead him into the kitchen.

Sokka watched him leave. Hakoda leaned back in his seat and looked at Sokka a moment.

“Is Zuko alright?” he asked finally. 

“He’s probably just nervous,” Katara said. She glanced back at the kitchen, lips pursed with concern. 

“Yeah,” Sokka said. Then he sighed. “No- I thought this might be a problem, but I didn’t want to say anything-”

“You thought what might be a problem, Sokka?” Katara asked.

“I’m not sure, exactly,” Sokka said. “But I don’t think Zuko’s had very good experiences with father figures.”

Hakoda’s face lightened with understanding. “Ah,” he said.

“I know Zuko’s family isn’t the greatest,” Katara said with a frown, “but surely-”

“I don’t know, Katara,” Sokka said. “I’m just saying that we should go easy on him tonight.” 

He looked to Hakoda, who said, “I’ll try, Sokka. You’ll have to tell me if I’m doing something wrong.” 

Sokka rubbed his arm. He wished, for the millionth time, that he knew a little more about Zuko’s family. He wouldn’t have invited him tonight if he’d known how uncomfortable it would make him. 

“Zuko will be fine, Sokka,” Katara said, as though she could read his thoughts. She grinned. “The flowers were a nice touch. I think Gran Gran’s half in love with him already.”

“And this sake is lovely.” Hakoda leaned forward to grab it off the coffee table, looking over the label again. “No one tell Bato, or he’ll make me share.” 

“You could share with your favorite son,” Sokka offered.

Hakoda blinked. “When did he get here?”

Sokka pulled a face while Katara snorted.

At that moment, Gran Gran poked her head out of the kitchen and said, “Come sit down to dinner before it gets cold!” 

Sokka leapt up. He hurried to the kitchen without waiting for his dad or sister, eager to check in on Zuko, who was stirring a pot of something on the stove. He looked a lot less tense than he had in the living room, and he even smiled a little at Sokka when he spotted him. 

“I’m sorry Gran Gran put you to work,” Sokka said, coming up alongside him and peeking in the pot. It was five-flavor soup, with little bits of seaweed and green onion swirling as Zuko stirred.

“That’s alright,” Zuko said. “I don’t mind helping.”

“This boy knows his way around a kitchen,” Gran Gran said. She slid a loaf of bannock out of the oven, closing the door with her hip. “I’ve half a mind to keep him here as a personal chef.”

“Thank you, Kanna,” Zuko said, looking pleased. 

Hakoda and Katara came into the kitchen. Hakoda made a big show of sniffing the air, then said, “Kanna, it smells wonderful.” 

“It’d better,” Gran Gran said. “Come give me a hand with the bread.”

Sokka glanced at Zuko. He was still stirring the soup, and looked like he was focused on it, but Sokka saw the slant of his eyes and the way he was angled to keep an eye on Hakoda as he crossed the room. Sokka wanted to say something, but it would have to wait for later, when they were alone.

They all helped bringing the food over to the table. Zuko’s yellow flowers had been arranged in a vase and set in the center of the table, a bright centerpiece for the feast being laid out. Gran Gran had prepared grilled fish and rice, roasted root vegetables, salad, and a loaf of bannock bread topped with sesame seeds. The soup she ladled into bowls and passed out as everyone took their seats at the table.

“It looks great, Gran Gran,” said Katara.

“Thank you, Katara.” Gran Gran set the last bowl of soup down in front of her plate and said, “Zuko, what would you like to drink?”

“Just water is fine,” Zuko said. 

“I’d love some orange juice, Gran Gran,” Sokka said with a hopeful smile.

Gran Gran just gazed back with a flat expression. “What am I, your maid?”

Sokka sighed and picked up his water glass, taking a long sip.

“You have to try the soup, Zuko,” Hakoda said, shaking his napkin out. “Kanna is a genius with it.”

“It’s an old family recipe,” Gran Gran said, nodding at the praise. “My mother taught it to me, I taught it to my daughter Kya, and she taught it to Katara. It’s had a long time to be perfected.”

Zuko picked up his spoon and dipped it into his soup. He bowed his head to taste it, then sat for a moment thoughtfully.

“It’s wonderful,” he said. “Did you use shiitake mushrooms?”

Gran Gran smiled, looking pleasantly surprised. “I did.”

“They’re my favorite,” Zuko said, and took up another spoonful of soup.

Gran Gran shot an approving look at Sokka. Sokka grinned down at his plate and reached out to take a slice of bannock.

“Zuko,” Hakoda said. “Sokka told me that you’re in school. What are you studying?”

Zuko set his spoon back down on the table. “Business, sir,” he said. “I plan to take a position at my father’s company after I graduate.”

Hakoda cut his fish up. “What does your father’s company do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He works in technology development, sir.” 

“Very impressive,” Hakoda said with a nod. “And what do you like to do for fun?”

Zuko shifted in his seat. “Fun?”

“In your free time,” Hakoda clarified.

Sokka speared a carrot onto the end of his fork. Zuko said, “Well, I- I help my uncle out at his shop. I help prepare the pastries.” He hesitated, then said, “I used to go to the theatre quite often.”

Hakoda’s smile went a bit mischievous. “That’s wonderful,” he said. “Sokka wrote a play once.”

Zuko turned to him, looking surprised. “You did?”

“I was eight,” Sokka said, shooting a glare at his father. “And you promised not to say anything embarrassing.”

Hakoda shrugged. “I thought it was quite good.”

“Yeah, Flight of the Boomerang was a masterpiece, Sokka,” Katara said. She grinned at Zuko. “He made me act in it.”

“Me, too,” Gran Gran said. “I was the boomerang. He made me a hat.” 

Zuko’s lips twitched. Sokka scowled around the table. “Traitors, every last one of you,” he said. 

“I was very proud of your play, Sokka,” Hakoda said.

Sokka waved a hand in the air. “Can we talk about something else now?” 

“Sokka says you’re in the navy, sir,” Zuko said, because he was the only one who actually cared about Sokka. 

“I am,” Hakoda said. “I’m a warrant officer in the Pacific Fleet. I enjoy it, but it’s hard to be away from my family for so long.”

Zuko nodded. “My uncle and my cousin served in the military,” he said. “I really respect the work you’re doing, sir.”

“Thank you, Zuko,” Hakoda said, looking pleased with Zuko’s interest. 

Then, because he apparently knew all the perfect things to say, Zuko said, “What are your responsibilities, sir?”

Sokka could have cheered; there was nothing Hakoda liked better than talking about his job. A good portion of dinner was spent doing exactly that, with Zuko asking clarifying questions that even Sokka hadn’t thought to ask before, and Hakoda walking through all the different aspects of his work. 

It was all going so well. Sokka listened with interest, idly pushing his rice into a pile in the center of his plate to give his hands something to do. He stacked it higher and higher, until Gran Gran looked over and saw the small tower.

“Sokka, stop playing with your food,” she said, frowning in disapproval. 

“Aw, Gran Gran,” Sokka said, bracing his fork against the pile so it wouldn’t fall. “It’s fun.” 

He went to add another scoop of rice on top. Across the table, Hakoda shot a look at him and said sharply, “Sokka.”

Sokka jumped when something clattered next to him. He turned to see that Zuko had knocked over his glass of water, spilling it across his sleeve and the table, and was now frantically trying to clean it up.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he said, snatching up his napkins and pressing them to o the puddle of water.

“Are you alright, Zuko?” Hakoda asked, half-rising out of his seat and pausing when Zuko’s cleaning only became more frantic.

“I’m so sorry,” Zuko said again. His face was bright red, only a few shades lighter than the edges of his scar.

“Zuko,” Gran Gran said, “there are clean towels in the upstairs bathroom. Up the stairs, first door on the left. Why don’t you dry off, and I’ll take care of this?”

Zuko looked torn between wanting to escape and wanting to stay and clean up his mess, but eventually decided to accept Gran Gran’s offer as an order. He ducked his head, murmuring a few more apologies, then stood up and left the room in a hurry.

Katara had already retrieved a dish towel. She leaned across the table and started mopping up the water. There wasn’t much of it; Zuko had already soaked most of it up with his napkins. 

Sokka drummed his fingers on the table, glancing behind him. “I’m going to go check on him,” he decided, shoving his chair back to stand up.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Katara said as Sokka turned and left.

He took the stairs two at a time, only slowing down as he approached the closed bathroom door. Sokka knocked twice, then waited for Zuko to open the door.

When he did, Zuko kept his gaze carefully trained on Sokka’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he said, moving back to let Sokka in.

Sokka slipped inside and closed the door behind him. “Stop apologizing,” he said. He looked Zuko over; he didn’t look particuarly upset, but there was a bitter set to his mouth when he frowned at Sokka.

“I’m messing this up.” He turned back to the sink and picked up a hand towel lying there, but didn’t move to use it. “I wanted to make a good first impression.”

“You are,” Sokka said, moving closer. “Seriously, I spill things at dinner at least twice a week. At least yours was just water and not orange soda.”

Zuko shook his head. “I don’t know what happened.”

Sokka leaned his hip against the counter. “We can leave, if you want.”

“Absolutely not,” Zuko said. “I have to salvage some of this.”

Sokka wanted to reach out to him, but Zuko looked like a rubber band close to snapping, and he wasn’t sure his touch would be welcome. Instead, Sokka crossed his arms and said, “I know you don’t believe me, but you’re actually making a great impression. I think my grandma is going to try to adopt you over dessert.”

Zuko’s expression eased a little bit. “Yeah, well,” he said. “I knew she would be the easy one.”

Something in Sokka’s chest ached. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Zuko set the towel back down on the counter. There was a small patch of damp fabric on his arm, but it didn’t look like the damage had been too bad. “No. I just need a few minutes, I think. I’ll be fine.”

“Take all the time you need.” Sokka hesitated, then reached out to touch Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko leaned easily into the touch, and when Sokka moved closer to wrap him in a hug, Zuko brought his own arms up to squeeze Sokka back.

“Thank you,” Sokka murmured against Zuko’s neck after a few moments of comfortable silence. Zuko smelled of cinnamon, like he’d recently been in the kitchen.

Zuko pulled back enough to see Sokka’s face. Sokka immediately missed his warmth. “For what?”

“For coming tonight,” Sokka said. “It means a lot to me.”

Zuko’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. He gave a short nod, lips flattening into a determined kind of frown.

Sokka left Zuko in the bathroom to finish cleaning up. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Katara and Gran Gran were in the living room. Katara was setting a stack of bowls and spoons down on the coffee table next to a large bowl. 

“I thought we would move to dessert,” Gran Gran said from the sofa. “Your father is brewing a pot of coffee right now.”

Sokka felt a rush of relief. “That’s great, Gran Gran,” he said, walking over to drop down next to her. A moment later Katara shoved in between them, and Sokka scowled at her but shifted to make space. 

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Sokka said. “Everything’s fine.”

Footsteps on the stairs alerted them to Zuko’s return. When he came into the room, his face was clear, and his attention was immediately caught by the dish on the coffee table. 

“Is that cobbler, Kanna?” he asked, circling around the table to join Sokka on the couch.

“It is,” said Gran Gran. “I hope you like blackberry.”

“I do,” Zuko said with a smile. “My mother used to make cobbler all the time when I was growing up. It was my favorite dish. This smells just as wonderful as hers did.” 

That half-surprised, half-delighted expression seemed a new permanent fixture for Sokka’s grandmother. Funny; she’d never been this pleased with Sokka’s compliments. 

Hakoda poked his head out of the kitchen. “Coffee’s almost done,” he said. “Zuko, do you like cream or sugar?”

“Both, please,” Zuko said.

Hakoda disappeared again. Sokka glanced over at Zuko, who returned his look with a small smile. 

Hakoda returned a moment later with an old breakfast tray holding mismatched mugs. He set the tray down on the coffee table and started passing them out.

“Aw,” Sokka said, taking his from his father. “Why do I always get the Hello Kitty mug?”

“You’re the one who bought it,” Katara said. Zuko snorted into his coffee, which he’d accepted from Hakoda with a polite thank you. 

“Don’t listen to the slander,” Sokka said to him. “I’m very manly.”

Zuko took a slow breath. “Yes,” he said. “That’s why you cried during Rapunzel.”

Hakoda laughed out loud. “It’s called Tangled,” Sokka said loudly, “and he sacrificed himself to _save her,_ anyone who’s not a sociopath would cry.” 

“He used to cry every time those animal rescue commercials would come on,” Gran Gran said, leaning across Katara to shake her head at Zuko.

“What is this, attack Sokka day?” Sokka crossed his arms, but couldn’t quite muster up a glare. 

“That’s every day,” Zuko said. He spotted Hakoda picking up the spoon to start dishing out the cobbler, and immediately hopped to his feet. “Let me, Hakoda,” he said.

“Why, thank you, Zuko,” Hakoda said as Zuko took the spoon from him. He picked up his own mug of coffee off the tray and went to sit down in the armchair.

Zuko scooped a neat portion of cobbler into a bowl with the ease of a server. “When is your leave over?” he asked, passing the first bowl off to Gran Gran. 

“The end of next week, unfortunately,” Hakoda said.

“When will you be back again?” Katara asked. 

Hakoda frowned. “I’m not sure, Katara.”

Sokka’s stomach sank the way it always did when he thought about his dad leaving again. He looked up when Zuko passed a bowl of cobbler his way. As he took it, Zuko brushed his fingers against Sokka’s. When Sokka raised his gaze to Zuko’s face, Zuko was smiling warmly, a little sympathetically. 

“You should ask to defer your return for another week,” Gran Gran said. “Pakku’s wrist isn’t better yet, and I need someone to fix my trellis.” 

“You’ve got a perfectly good grandson right there,” Hakoda noted.

“Apparently he doesn’t have time for his dear old Gran Gran,” she said, levelling a glare at Sokka.

“Hey,” Sokka said, “I’ve got a full schedule at work, double G, otherwise I would.” Zuko, who had returned to his seat beside Sokka, elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Sokka winced and glared at him. “Oh, alright, I’ll fix your trellis, Gran Gran.”

“I think you might be a good influence on my son, Zuko,” Hakoda said. 

Zuko’s reply was even and truthful. “I think he’s actually the good influence on me.” 

Sokka twisted in his seat to smile at him. Zuko smiled back, and for a moment they just looked at each other until Katara cleared her throat loudly.

“This cobbler is incredible, Kanna,” Zuko said, scraping up another spoonful.

“Yes,” Hakoda agreed. “I will definitely miss your cooking after I leave.” 

“You wouldn’t if you would just teach yourself,” Gran Gran said, arching an eyebrow at him. “Young men should know how to cook, like Zuko does.”

“I cannot believe she already likes you more,” Sokka muttered into his cobbler, earning himself another elbow to the ribs. 

“Where’d you learn to bake, Zuko?” asked Katara.

“My mother taught me,” Zuko said. “It helps me feel close to her, when I do it. I’ve only picked up a little bit of cooking from my uncle, to help at meals.”

“You know, I need to make time to stop by the Jasmine Dragon before I leave,” Hakoda said. “I would love to meet your uncle and thank him personally for the sake.”

“Please, feel free to come any day,” Zuko said. “Although I have to warn you, Uncle will force you to taste test his newest blend.”

Hakoda chuckled. “I think that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” he said. 

Dessert lasted the better part of two hours. Everyone had second servings of the cobbler except Sokka, who had three. Hakoda had to get up to top off everyone’s coffees so often he finally just left the pot on the coffee table for everyone to help themselves from. They traded small talk and stories- Hakoda and Gran Gran favored what Sokka had bitterly titled “Embarrassing Tales of Sokka’s Childhood”- while Zuko told a few short stories about his uncle.

It was getting late by the time Katara yawned. Hakoda cut off his description of his recent visit to Thailand and said, “You know, I think Katara makes a good point.”

Zuko leaned forward and set his empty bowl on the coffee table. “Can I help with the dishes?”

“No, that’s alright,” Gran Gran said, pushing herself to her feet and waving him off. “You’ve done more than enough to help tonight.”

“Is Sokka driving you home?” Hakoda asked Zuko.

“Yes, sir,” Zuko said. 

“Hakoda,” Hakoda reminded gently.

Sokka felt Zuko tense beside him, but his smile was a little bashful as he said, “Sorry, it’s a habit.” 

“Not a bad habit at all,” Hakoda said. He got to his feet and approached Zuko, who stood to meet him. “I just think we’re past the need for that.” He offered his hand to Zuko and smiled warmly. “It was a pleasure to meet you. You make my son very happy.”

“Dad,” Sokka groaned, tipping his head back against the sofa.

Zuko shook Hakoda’s hand. “He makes me very happy, sir,” he said frankly. “It was an honor to meet you.”

“Wait there one moment,” Gran Gran said. She picked up the empty coffee pot and turned to walk back into the kitchen. Hakoda gathered up most of the dirty dishes and went to follow her. 

“I’ll see you at movie night tomorrow, Zuko,” Katara said. She smiled, and then leaned over to hug Zuko again. This time, Zuko returned the embrace, brief and still a little stiff, but with a little less surprise. When Katara turned to leave, she brushed her fingers against Sokka’s elbow, then disappeared towards the stairs.

“Here we are,” Gran Gran said, walking back into the room. She was holding a decently large tupperware container, which she handed over to Zuko. “I made a little bit of extra cobbler and hid it away from everyone else.”  
Zuko’s face lit up. “Thank you so much, Kanna,” he said. “For everything. Dinner was amazing.”

Gran Gran patted Zuko’s cheek and said, “You’re welcome back anytime, Zuko. You’ll have to teach me that quiche recipe soon.” To Sokka, she said, “Get this boy home safe.”

“Yes, Gran Gran,” Sokka said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and turned towards the front door, jangling them loudly over his head as he called, “Bye everyone!”

“Thank you again,” Zuko said, bowing quickly to Gran Gran before turning to follow Sokka out the front door.

Sokka crossed the front lawn quickly without looking back at Zuko. He unlocked his car with a beep, and behind him Zuko said, “Sokka?”

“One second,” Sokka said. He opened the driver’s door and slipped inside, sticking the key into the ignition as Zuko mirrored him on the other side. Sokka twisted in his seat to look over his shoulder as he pulled out of the driveway, put the car into drive, and started down the road. 

He waited just long enough to turn a corner before pulling to the side of the road and parking. He turned fully in his seat to Zuko, who looked completely bewildered.

“Sokka,” he said. He was still holding onto the tupperware with both hands. “Is everything alright?”

Sokka leaned across the center console, grabbed Zuko’s face, and kissed him.

Zuko made a soft, surprised sound. He dropped the tupperware into his lap, hands coming up to grab at Sokka’s shirt. His lips moved eagerly under Sokka’s, warm and perfect.

Sokka nipped at Zuko’s lower lip. Zuko gasped and pulled back a little bit, eyes wide and pupils blown under the dim, muted streetlights outside the car.

“What’s all this for?” he asked.

“I’ve been wanting to do it all night.” Sokka brought his leg up, shifting into a more comfortable position to lean in and press his lips to Zuko’s neck. Zuko tipped his head back, breath stuttering as Sokka dragged his teeth along the sensitive skin there. 

“Did I,” Zuko said, his voice shaky. “Did I do alright, then?” 

Sokka dragged his tongue along the patch of skin he’d been biting at to soothe it, then pulled away. “Zuko,” he said. “You were perfect. My entire family loves you.”

Zuko’s hope was a fragile-looking thing. Sokka was once again startled by how clearly he wore his emotions, how easy he was for Sokka to read. 

“Really?” he asked.

Sokka brought a hand up to cup the back of Zuko’s head. He twined his fingers into Zuko’s hair. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Zuko,” he murmured, applying just enough pressure to make Zuko’s breath catch again.

Zuko dropped the tupperware to the floor of the car. He took advantage of his sudden full range of motion, turning in his seat to press more of himself against Sokka when he kissed him. He dragged a hand down Sokka’s chest, and this time it was Sokka’s turn to whimper when one a finger caught on his nipple. He wriggled in his seat when Zuko pressed down on it through Sokka’s shirt, the heat rushing through Sokka tripling when Zuko tilted his head and opened his mouth wide enough for Sokka to feel the warm press of his tongue against Sokka’s lips.

Sokka pulled away, gasping for breath. “Okay,” he said, “our first time is not about to be in my shitty car.”

Zuko’s topknot was slightly askew, but he looked remarkably put together considering how Sokka felt. “I don’t think it’s shitty,” he said mildly.

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Still not going to happen in a car.”

Zuko’s grin was a little wicked. “Where is it going to happen, then?”

Sokka flipped the engine back on and said, “My apartment in five minutes if you don’t stop looking at me like that.”

Zuko laughed. He sank back against his seat as Sokka pulled away from the curb. One of his hands came to rest on the center console, and Sokka took it, twining their fingers together.

“Do you really think they liked me?” he asked quietly after several minutes of silence.

Sokka squeezed his hand. “Yes,” he said. “I do. Thank you again, Zuko, it means the world to me that you were able to meet my whole family like that.”

“It was fun,” Zuko said. “It’s nice to see how close you all are.” 

He was staring out the window, and didn’t see Sokka when he looked at him. The question was there, on the tip of Sokka’s tongue, practically hanging in the space between them- but it had ended up being too good a night. Sokka bit it back, tucking it away for a better time.

“Gran Gran wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said. “She’ll want you to come to Sunday dinners now.”

“I think Iroh was expecting you to come to our place for that,” Zuko said, “but I’m sure we can figure out some kind of schedule.”

Sokka grinned. “We could split up and do it in shifts.”

“No,” Zuko said, “you’re my ride to Gran Gran’s. You’re stuck with me.”

Sokka pulled up to the curb in front of Iroh’s house. He turned in his seat and said, “No one else I’d rather be stuck with.”

“Sap,” Zuko said. He leaned forward to kiss Sokka. He didn’t use tongue this time, and Sokka wasn’t sure if he was grateful he wouldn’t have to wrestle his self-control or disappointed about it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Zuko said, leaning down to pick up the tupperware and opening the door. 

“Yeah,” Sokka said, smiling a little dopily at him. “Sweet dreams.”

Zuko’s expression softened. “You, too,” he said, then slipped out of the car and shut the door behind him.

Sokka watched long enough to make sure that Zuko got the front door open alright. Then he pulled away from the curb, doing a u-turn to start heading back in the direction of his apartment.

He took the scenic route back despite the late hour. He needed the time to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: emotional effects of child abuse, very mild sexual content in the last few paragraphs.
> 
> I'm back!
> 
> Thank you all for letting me have a lil break. A lot has been going on- I'm moved into my new apartment and I've got a new job starting this week! I've been busy with that, and this also turned out to be a MONSTER of a chapter, so I hope you enjoyed this longer update! Updates will still be a little slower than they were at the beginning of this story, but I'm not planning on having another long break like this again. Also, with my current plans, this story should be wrapping up in a few chapters, but I've already started writing another Zukka AU with a really fun twist that I'm pumped about posting after this one wraps up.
> 
> If you haven't seen, I did a one-shot to go along with this story called "Sokka's 12-Step Plan to Winning Zuko's Heart." It's just a little thing I whipped up while I was taking a break, so give that a read if you haven't already!
> 
> Thank you all so much for 20,000 hits. I mean- I'm speechless. I'm definitely behind on comments and I'm not sure I'll have time to go through them all, so I might just start responding to them again on this chapter. I still read each and every one of your comments and I appreciate them all so much!! Seriously, your continued support is so motivating to me <3 
> 
> I hope you're all doing well! I appreciate you for reading :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please see the end note for content warnings! esp for this chapter :)

“And then the missile collides into the planet like this-” Sokka knocked his knuckles together, wiggling his fingers to mime an explosion. “And then the end credits roll, just like that! Isn’t that dope?”

“Super dope,” Zuko said. “And you don’t remember the name of the movie or the channel it was on?”

“Nah,” Sokka said, “but that’s what I get for watching cable past three in the morning.”

“I think you’re the only person except for my uncle who still has cable.”

“I like the uncertainty of it,” Sokka said. “Will I get shitty cooking shows? Will I get shitty talk shows? Will I get static? That’s up to God.” 

Zuko laughed. Overhead, the sun shone bright in the sky. There was still a generous layer of snow on the ground, but the sky was clear and it was the warmest it had been in months, the first sign that winter would be coming to an end in the near future. It was warm enough that Zuko was wearing a thick sweater without his jacket, and Sokka had left his black coat hanging open to show off his Metallica t-shirt. Paired with his earring and dark skinny jeans, he looked like he’d come right out of one of Zuko’s emo-phase wet dreams.

They were walking through the park near their old high school, one Zuko used to come to with his sister and friends, but hadn’t been to since he’d graduated. It was busier than he remembered, even despite the snow. It appeared that everyone else had similar ideas to get out and enjoy the good weather while it lasted. Aang had woken them all up that morning with an invitation to take Appa to the park, and Iroh had given them both extended lunch breaks to meet up with everyone else. 

“Oh,” Sokka said, “I’m almost finished with that commission I was working on. Can I get your feedback on it later?”

“Of course,” Zuko said. “I’m sure it will be the same feedback as always. Your work is incredible, Sokka.” 

“Aw.” Sokka bumped his shoulder against Zuko’s with a teasing grin. “You’re just saying that cause you legally have to as my boyfriend.”

Zuko ignored the familiar flutters in his stomach he felt every time Sokka referred to him like that. _Shut the fuck up,_ he told himself. 

“No, all I legally have to do is support you,” Zuko said. “I would never lie to you about the quality of your work. You would never improve if I did that.”

“You know, you said that with just enough lack of care for my feelings that I believe you,” Sokka said. He grinned and took Zuko’s hand in his on. That was another good thing about the weather- they had been able to go out without their gloves, so Zuko was able to twine his fingers with Sokka’s and soak in his warmth. “Thanks, babe.” 

Zuko smiled back, feeling vaguely giddy from the fresh air and the glint of Sokka’s white smile under the sunlight. He wondered if he would be able to entice Sokka into staying out past their lunch break. It was a slow enough day that Uncle wouldn’t mind.

“Zuko!”

Zuko jumped a little, startled. He turned in time to see a pink and brown blur throw itself at him, wrapping feather-light arms around his neck to squeeze him once before letting go and bouncing away before Zuko could react.

“Ty Lee?” Zuko asked incredulously.

“Yes!” Ty Lee beamed at him. She was wearing a pastel pink sweater and white pants, her hair tied back in her usual high braid. She looked a touch more mature, but otherwise the same as she had in high school; seeing her was like a punch to Zuko’s gut.

“Oh, Zuko,” Ty Lee continued, “it’s so good to see you again! I always ask Mai about you, and she said you’re doing really good with your uncle. Oh- Mai!” Ty Lee turned and waved a hand in the air at a darker figure approaching them at a slower pace. Zuko’s heart sank even lower as Mai walked up, dark eyes fixed on Zuko.

“Well,” she said, stopping beside Ty Lee. Her expression was flat. “What a surprise.” 

Ty Lee grabbed Mai’s arm, gripping the fabric of her black coat. “I was just telling Mai that I wanted to manifest a meeting with you,” she said. “And here you are, no manifestation required! The universe works in such wonderful ways sometimes. Who’s your friend, Zuko?” 

Zuko realized with a start that he was still gripping Sokka’s hand. He immediately loosened his hold, glancing over at Sokka. Sokka was already watching Zuko. He looked happy enough, but his jaw was tensed like he was anticipating something unpleasant. 

Zuko swallowed past his discomfort and tightened his fingers around Sokka’s again. “This is Sokka,” he said, ignoring the heavy weight of Mai’s eyes on him. “My boyfriend.”

He watched Sokka out of the corner of his eye, and bit back a smile at the look of grateful delight that popped onto Sokka’s face.

Ty Lee squealed a little. “Oh, Zuko,” she said, smiling widely at him. There wasn’t a trace of mockery in her voice. Zuko always had liked her. “I didn’t know you were dating again!”

“Sokka, these are my friends Mai and Ty Lee,” Zuko said, tugging Sokka forward so he wasn’t standing behind him.

Sokka shot a charming smile at them. “Hi,” he said. “Zuko’s told me a lot about you guys.” 

Ty Lee’s eyes widened. She turned back to Zuko, and raised her hand to shield her whispers. “He’s cute, Zuko!” 

Zuko glanced over and smiled at Sokka. “Yeah,” he said. “He is.”

Sokka’s grin softened into something both happy and embarrassed. He knocked his arm against Zuko’s and said, “Says you.” 

Zuko squeezed his hand. He looked over to Mai, who was watching Sokka. When she felt Zuko looking she met his gaze evenly. She didn’t look upset, but she didn’t look pleased, either. Even after all these years, Zuko could only read Mai if she let him.

“What are you ladies up to today?” Sokka asked, oblivious to Mai and Zuko’s staring contest beside him. “Enjoying the weather?”

“Yes, isn’t it so gorgeous?” Ty Lee asked. She tilted her face up to catch some of the sun’s warmth. “I love the sunshine!” 

Zuko raised his eyebrows at Mai. She sighed and said, “Ty Lee promised she would buy me lunch.” 

“Are you two on a park date?” Ty Lee asked, bouncing forward onto the balls of her feet. “That’s so cute.” 

“Actually, we’re here to meet some of our friends,” Sokka said. “They should be-”

“Sokka! Zuko!” They turned to see a group of people sitting on the grass in the distance. A white blur was running circles around them- Appa, tromping happily through the snow- and a tiny figure that looked like Aang was hopping up and down and waving a hand at them.

Sokka raised his hand back in greeting. Ty Lee said, “Oh my god, is that a dog?”

“You’re at the park to play with a dog,” Mai said. 

Zuko glanced at her. 

“I love dogs,” Ty Lee gushed.

Mai looked back. Her eyes flickered once more over to Sokka, then back to Zuko, and then the smallest smile curled her lips

“That sounds nice,” she said. 

Zuko felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders. Sokka said, “Yeah, Appa’s the best. You can totally meet him if you want.” 

Ty Lee brightened, but Mai said, “We have reservations at that bistro, Ty Lee.”

Ty Lee’s excitement faded a bit. “Oh, right,” she said. Her smile perked back up. “Well, it was really good to see you, Zuko, and it was nice to meet you Sokka!” 

“It was nice to meet you as well,” Sokka said. “Enjoy your lunch.”

“We definitely will.” Ty Lee grinned at them, grabbed Mai’s arm, and tugged her away, turning around to walk down the winding path that would lead them out of the park.

Zuko watched them go. Sokka, who was still holding his hand, leaned in close and said, “You good?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said, staring at Ty Lee and Mai’s retreating backs. He hesitated, then squeezed Sokka’s fingers once and released them. “Hold on a sec.”

He hurried after the two girls, jogging to catch up, and called, “Mai, Ty Lee!” 

They paused and turned to greet him. Ty Lee looked curious, while Mai suddenly looked annoyed.

Zuko drew to a stop in front of them. “I wanted to ask-” 

“We’re not going to tell Azula,” Mai said, her voice flat and sharp. 

Zuko bit back a wince. “I know,” he said softly. “I trust you both.” He took a long, slow breath, then said, “I wanted to ask if you both wanted to hang out sometime. I’d love to catch up.”

Ty Lee made a soft noise of surprise, and suddenly she was throwing herself forward into Zuko’s arms again. Years of practice helped Zuko catch her easily, wrapping her in a quick, light hug that lasted only seconds.

When she pulled back, her expression was painfully earnest. “Zuko, I’m so sorry for everything that happened,” she said. “I should have done more to help you-”

“It’s okay, Ty Lee,” Zuko said, smiling gently at her. “It wasn’t your fault. Besides-” He glanced over his shoulder, where Sokka was waiting for him with his hands in his pockets and face turned up to the sky. Behind him, Appa was still running circles around the rest of their friends. Toph was throwing snowballs for him. 

“I like where I ended up,” he said finally, turning back to the two girls.

Mai’s smile was a little tight, but pleased. Ty Lee said, “I’m so happy to hear that, Zuko. And you know, Sokka really _is_ a looker. I definitely would have hit on him if you weren’t together.” She pushed herself up on her toes to see over Zuko’s shoulder and wiggled her fingers in Sokka’s direction with a giggle. 

Mai sighed. “Alright, time for us to go,” she said. She looked back to Zuko and said, “Let us know when you want to hang out. You can bring Sokka over for dinner.” 

Zuko grinned. “I would love that.”

“Bye, Zuko,” Ty Lee said. Her braid swung behind her as she turned and walked away, tugging Mai along with her. 

Zuko didn’t linger. He turned to walk back over to Sokka, who was watching him with a curious expression.

“You know, I get what you saw in Mai,” he commented. “She’s pretty. A little scary, though. I kind of thought she was about to pull a knife on me.”

“She stopped doing that in high school,” Zuko said. Sokka fell into step beside him, and they walked off the cleared sidewalk, crunching through the snow towards their friends. “Mai is amazing. Unfortunately, she’s a woman, so we didn’t have much of a chance.”

“I can’t pretend I’m not grateful for that,” Sokka said. “I would hate to have that kind of competition.”

Zuko stepped over a particularly dense patch of snow. “Oh,” he said. He knocked his shoulder into Sokka’s with a grin. “You don’t have any competition, don’t worry.” 

Sokka smirked, giving Zuko just enough time to rethink his move. In one quick movement, he bent down, scooping up a handful of snow and throwing it in Zuko’s face.

Zuko spluttered, reaching up to scrape the powder off himself while Sokka ran away, cackling loudly. Zuko tried to muster up some irritation but only felt a growing sense of glee, which- huh, that wasn’t something Zuko had felt in years.

“Sokka!” Zuko shouted, feigning anger as he shook the snow out of his hair.

“Catch me if you can, hot stuff!” Sokka was still sprinting towards their friends. Zuko rolled his eyes before taking off after him, hindered a little by the snow but picking his feet up high enough to catch up easily to Sokka.

Sokka grunted when Zuko threw himself forward, catching him around the middle and dragging him down. He landed face-first in the snow, and Zuko quickly scrambled to flip him over, settling down so he was straddling his waist.

Sokka’s face was a mask of powdered snow. He blinked up at Zuko, eyes bright blue amidst all the white.

“How the hell are you that fast?” he demanded.

“I take a lot of walks,” Zuko said. He reached down to brush snow off of Sokka’s cheeks, brushing his thumbs along the line of stubble framing his jaw.

Sokka’s face split into a grin. “That’s hot.”

“Hey,” shouted Toph’s voice, still a distance out. “Are you two losers snow wrestling without me?” 

Sokka laughed. “Get off me before she comes and tries to pin us both,” he said.

Zuko stood and offered his hand to pull Sokka up. They dusted each other off, all fluttery fingers and quick, half-embarrassed grins. Sokka caught Zuko’s hand, and they turned to go join their friends, still stumbling over each other and the snow with breathless laughter.

X X X X X

Zuko fiddled with the straps of his bag as he climbed the stairs of Sokka’s apartment building. For the tenth time in the past minute, he reminded himself that he had nothing to be nervous about. He and Sokka hung out all the time. They were dating, for god’s sake. Zuko should not feel this anxious about spending time with his boyfriend.

Except, earlier on the phone amidst discussions of dinner and movie lists, Sokka had commented idly that Zuko was welcome to spend the night if he wanted. _No pressure_ , Sokka had quickly assured him. But the offer was there, and even though Zuko wasn’t yet sure if he’d be able to follow through, he had thrown a pair of pajamas and his toothbrush into his bag, just in case. 

It wasn’t that Zuko didn’t want to spend the night. He did, he really did, but spending the night at your partner’s house had certain connotations to it. Again, it wasn’t that Zuko was necessarily _opposed_ to those connotations- just thinking about it, about _Sokka_ like that, made his cheeks heat up and warmth stir in his gut- but it had been a very long time since Zuko had done anything like that. He wasn’t sure he’d be any good at it anymore. 

When he reached Sokka’s door, Zuko paused. He frowned and sniffed the air. It was faint, but there was definitely something burning nearby.

“Dear god,” Zuko muttered. He knocked loudly on the door, and after a moment heard someone yell, “Come in!” 

The acrid, charred smell of something burning to a crisp hit Zuko harder as he walked into the apartment and closed the door behind him. He dropped his bag to the floor by the front door, looking cautiously towards the kitchen. There was lots of banging going on in there- the clang of an oven door being opened and closed, the clash of pots on a counter.

“Sokka,” Zuko called warily.

Sokka’s head poked out of the kitchen. His hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and he was beaming. 

“Hey, babe,” he said. “Don’t come over here!”

Zuko ignored him. “Is something burning?” he asked, walking across the room to join Sokka in the kitchen.

“Ah,” Sokka said. “Actually, something is already _burnt_. Really important distinction, changes the whole game.”

Zuko paused in the entryway. The kitchen wasn’t normally the cleanest part of Sokka’s apartment, but now it was a _mess._ Every burner on the stove was taken up by a pot or a pan, there were several bowls and spoons splattered with some kind of red sauce, and the oven door, which was hanging open, was spewing grey smoke. 

Zuko snatched up a dish towel off the counter and started flapping it at the oven, trying to disperse the smoke. “Sokka, what happened?”

“So the garlic bread’s a little crispy,” Sokka said. “Sue me.” 

Zuko waved his hand in front of him and approached the oven. He peeked inside, where a baking sheet was stacked with what looked like a couple charred rocks. 

“I thought you wanted to order takeout,” Zuko said, straightening up to peek in the pots on the stove. There was one full of red sauce, and one full of pasta in cloudy-looking water.

“That was a distraction.” Sokka joined him at the stove, fork in hand, and went to poke the noodles. “I wanted to surprise you with a nice meal. I, uh-” He raised his fork, a congealed blob of overcooked pasta speared on the end. His mouth pinched into a frown. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

Zuko felt something warm prickle his chest. “You tried to cook for me?”

“Key word _tried._ ” Sokka dropped the noodles back into the water with a splash. He looked a little miserable. “Apparently it’s a lot harder than Katara makes it look.” 

Zuko appraised him. There was a splash of red sauce on his cheek. Zuko raised his dish towel and gently brushed it off, drawing Sokka’s attention to him. Sokka’s eyes were wide, his lips pursed in a pout, and Zuko couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you,” he said. He leaned in to kiss him, and Sokka responded with immediate enthusiasm, dropping his hands to grip Zuko’s waist. Sokka’s lips were soft and cool. Zuko didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the taste of them.

“If that’s what I get for fucking up a meal,” Sokka said when they pulled away, “I can’t wait to see what I get if I successfully pull one off.”

Zuko laughed. He leaned down to close the oven door, because he was starting to get a headache from all the smoke. “Baby steps.” 

Sokka turned off all the burners on the stove. “Well, that was a flop.” He grinned at Zuko. “Wanna order pizza?”

“Please,” Zuko said, glancing again at the still boiling pots.

Sokka insisted that they leave the mess for tomorrow, instead dragging Zuko back into the living room. Zuko sat dutifully on the couch and watched in amusement as Sokka fiddled with his phone. He was wearing a soft, comfy-looking blue sweatshirt printed with the faded logo of their high school lacrosse team and a pair of grey sweatpants, and looked almost painfully attractive when he raised his head and said, “What toppings do you like? I get meat-lovers, but I’m sure you get some prissy shit.”

“I do not,” Zuko said, offended. “I like pineapple.”

Sokka shook his head. “Your consistency is impressive,” he said. He rounded the coffee table and dropped onto the couch beside Zuko, sprawling so their knees knocked together. “Oh, lava cake, yes please. Do you like Mountain Dew?”

“Sure,” Zuko said, even though he had never tried it.

“Sweet.” Sokka pressed a few more buttons, then grinned. “Alright, pizza ordered. Now all my attention can be on you, cutie.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, but he could feel his cheeks warming up. He wasn’t sure why Sokka insisted on using all of these pet names. Zuko didn’t mind them, but he also didn’t really know what to do with them.

“How’d your quiz go today?” Sokka asked. He threw an arm over the back of the couch, and after a moment of hesitation Zuko accepted his offer and leaned up against him. Sokka’s hand immediately came up to brush through Zuko’s hair. Zuko hadn’t even realized that was something he enjoyed before Sokka had done it, and now he had to repress a shiver as he shut his eyes to focus on the feeling of Sokka’s fingers on his head.

“Fine,” he said. “I should have done better.”

“You studied for hours,” Sokka said. He pushed Zuko’s hair out of his face, scratching his fingers lightly against his scalp. “Give yourself a break.” 

Zuko snorted, eyes still shut. “I can’t afford to.”

Sokka’s fingers paused. Zuko raised his head and turned to look at him to find Sokka already watching him with a soft smile. When Sokka leaned in to kiss him, Zuko let his eyes slip closed again, relishing the feel of Sokka’s open mouth on his, of his skin against Zuko’s when he dipped his head lower to kiss Zuko’s neck. Sokka had shaved, and although a part of Zuko missed the scratch of his stubble, the feeling of smooth skin gliding along Zuko’s throat made him inhale sharply and curl his fingers into the back of Sokka’s hoodie.

Sokka raised his head so their faces were very close together. He smiled. “Hi,” he said quietly.

Zuko swallowed. “Hi.”

Sokka leaned in to kiss the tip of Zuko’s nose, then pulled away and leaned over to the coffee table. “You work too hard,” he announced. He grabbed the television remote. “You need to relax.”

“I am relaxing,” Zuko said as Sokka turned the television on. 

“You need to relax harder.” Sokka pulled up Netflix, then flipped through his list to a show Zuko didn’t recognize. 

“What’s this?” Zuko asked as Sokka pressed play.

“It’s called Nailed It.” Sokka tossed the remote back onto the coffee table and shifted, scooting away from Zuko to the other side of the couch. Zuko had only a moment to feel disappointed before Sokka shifted so he was lying down and opened his arms wide, his expression expectant. “C’mon, let’s cuddle.”

Zuko smiled, fondness bubbling in his chest. He moved, carefully crawling up the couch and lowering himself down so he was lying fully and a little awkwardly on top of Sokka. Sokka’s arms came up around him and he shifted to correct some of Zuko’s stiffness. “Relax,” he reminded him, touching the back of Zuko’s head and gently lowering it so it was resting on Sokka’s chest.

Zuko curled his arms around Sokka, gripping his hoodie. One of Sokka’s hands wandered to Zuko’s back while the other returned to Zuko’s hair. Zuko exhaled softly, sinking down against Sokka.

“It’s a baking competition.” Zuko could feel Sokka’s words in his chest when he spoke. “I thought you’d like that. Except they’re all really bad at it, so maybe it’ll just annoy you.”

“It looks fun,” Zuko said, even though he wasn’t really paying attention to the screen. He was too busy soaking in the feeling of Sokka’s fingers in his hair, of his hand on Zuko’s back, rubbing small, soothing circles there. He could hear Sokka’s heartbeat, pounding a quick drumbeat against his ribcage, and Zuko gripped Sokka tighter, wishing he could draw himself even closer.

Eventually, Zuko did find himself caught up in the show. He watched the competition with growing horror, commenting on the mistakes the contestants were making before the judges could. 

“Oh, my god,” he said, watching a woman as she looked for something to grease her pan with, shrugged, then dumped her batter in without it. “Are these people stupid?”

Sokka’s fingers scratched at the short hair at the nape of Zuko’s neck. “To be fair, I just managed to fuck up spaghetti,” he said. 

“That’s different,” Zuko said. “You’re not on television.”

“I should be,” Sokka said. “I could totally take these people.”

Zuko watched as someone’s cake collapsed in on itself. “I’m not sure you could,” he said. 

Sokka pinched his side. Zuko gasped, then raised his head to glare at Sokka.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Sokka said, grinning at him.

Zuko rolled his eyes. Sokka cupped his jaw, brushing his thumb gently over Zuko’s cheek. There was something heavy in his eyes, the same heat that Zuko could feel stirring inside him, and Zuko’s nerves leapt into his throat.

Instead of leaning down to kiss him, though, Sokka’s eyes flicked back to the television. “Aw, shit,” he said. “I don’t think icing is supposed to look like that.”

Zuko looked back to the show, and his eyes widened. “That’s fucking frosting, not royal icing! Jesus Christ, these people are hopeless.”

Sokka laughed, fingers returning to Zuko’s hair.

They made it through two and a half episodes before Sokka’s phone buzzed. He shifted carefully to look at it, then said, “Pizza’s here! Up, up.” 

“You are definitely more excited to see the pizza than you were to see me,” Zuko noted as Sokka jumped up and grabbed his wallet off the coffee table. 

“That’s ridiculous, babe,” he said. “But also I got us lava cakes, so can you really blame me? I’ll be right back.”

Zuko settled back against the cushions as Sokka left out the front door. He curled his arms around himself and stared at the screen. 

“I come bearing delicious gifts,” Sokka announced when he returned a few minutes later. He slammed the front door behind him and hoisted the pizza box in the air, presenting it proudly as he dropped it and a plastic bag on the table. “Well, delicious gifts and whatever the fuck you got.”

“Have you even tried pineapple on pizza before?” 

“No,” Sokka said. He flipped open the pizza box. “And I’m not about to start now.”

“It’s actually really good,” Zuko said as Sokka pulled two bottles of soda and a small cardboard box out of the bag. “You just hate trying new things.”

“How dare you bring up valid criticisms of me.”

Sokka got them both paper towels, which they used as plates. Zuko picked up a piece of his pizza, balancing it and the paper towel on his knee as Sokka collapsed next to him and tugged the pizza box closer.

“See, now this is pizza.” He picked up a slice from his side of the pizza, and had to use two hands because of how heavy it was from all the toppings. “Mm, meat.” 

Zuko eyed it without trust. “I’m not kissing you with sausage breath,” he said.

Sokka’s lips curled into a smirk. “Oh?”

“Don’t be gross,” Zuko said with a groan.

“Hey, you said it. Oh, that is a _shitty_ cake.”

They returned their focus to the show as they ate their pizza. Sokka eventually did try a bite of pineapple pizza, and although he made a big deal out of pulling a face, he admitted after that it wasn’t that bad.

“Alright, now for the really good shit.” Between them they had finished the whole pizza, and now Sokka had switched his attention to the smaller cardboard box. It had gotten dark outside the window, and Sokka hadn’t bothered to turn any lights on, so the living room was dark except for the glow of the television. Sokka had let Zuko know that they could watch something else at any time, but Zuko was more than a little invested in the awful baking and refused to hear it.

He set the box between them and opened in. Nestled inside were two small chocolate cakes. Sokka offered him a fork and grinned, features softened by the flickering light of the television.

“Try some.”

Zuko scooped up a bite, watching the chocolate flow. He ate it slowly, savoring the sweet flavor. 

“It’s really good.” He looked up at Sokka. Sokka was watching him, eyes glinting in the dim lighting. He wasn’t smiling; his gaze was intense as he leaned in to kiss Zuko, soft at first, then deeper. Zuko dropped his fork back into the box, hand coming up to grip Sokka’s arm, breathing into the kiss as Sokka pushed gently so Zuko was pressed back against the cushions. Zuko made a sound that was embarrassingly close to a moan.

Abruptly, Sokka pulled away and grinned at him. “Ha, ha,” he said, lips still very close to Zuko’s. “You kissed me with sausage breath.” 

Zuko opened his mouth, gaping incredulously as Sokka chuckled. He sat up again and whacked his arm.

“Eat your stupid lava cake,” he said, ignoring his burning cheeks.

They sat close together as they ate. Sokka finished Zuko’s cake when he couldn’t, and then he dumped all the trash on the coffee table and twisted to lie back down, this time with his head on Zuko’s lap. Zuko smiled, pleasantly surprised, and relaxed back as he brushed his fingers through Sokka’s ponytail. 

After a few minutes Zuko grabbed Sokka’s hair elastic. Keeping an eye on Sokka’s expression to make sure it was alright, he gently tugged his hair free, smoothing through it with his fingers. Sokka gave a soft sigh, turning his head to press his cheek against Zuko’s knee. His eyes were shut.

“That feels nice,” he said.

Zuko ran his hand through Sokka’s loose hair. It was just as soft as he’d thought it would be. 

“I like your hair down,” he said quietly. 

Sokka cracked one eye open to gaze up at Zuko. “Oh?” Zuko could just see the edge of his smirk.

“I mean,” Zuko said, “I like your hair up, too, I didn’t mean- I just don’t see it down very often, so-“

Sokka snagged Zuko’s fingers and tugged them down to his mouth. He pressed his lips to the inside of Zuko’s wrist, as light as a brush of air.

He released Zuko and turned back to the television. Zuko swallowed and raised his hand up to stroke through Sokka’s hair again. 

Another few episodes of the show passed before Zuko noticed that Sokka was being unusually quiet. He looked down to find that Sokka’s eyes were closed, his mouth parted slightly as he dozed in Zuko’s lap.

Zuko smiled. He brushed his hand along the top of Sokka’s head and said, “Sokka.”

Sokka sniffed. He blinked a few times, and after a moment he sat up, stretching his arms up above him with a yawn.

“Wow, you’re a good pillow,” he said. He looked to Zuko, his hair ruffled from Zuko’s fingers. “Do you want to stay?”

His expression was open, carefully blank, and Zuko understood what he was trying to communicate- Zuko could stay or go, and Sokka wouldn’t pressure him either way. 

Zuko felt a swell of affection for Sokka, but he needn’t have worried; despite his earlier reservations, Zuko had no intentions of leaving Sokka tonight.

“Yes,” he said, enjoying Sokka’s expression as it lit up.

Zuko snagged his bag from the front door and then followed Sokka into his room. He liked Sokka’s bedroom. He only recognized a few of the many movie posters on his wall, but it was cozy and a little messy and decidedly _Sokka_. Zuko had kept his room painfully spotless as a child out of fear of punishment, and the habit followed him to this day. In Sokka’s room, it wasn’t uncommon for Zuko to have to push aside piles of clean or dirty laundry to find somewhere to sit. It wasn’t enough to annoy Zuko. It was a welcome change, in his opinion.

“Jeez, I’m tired,” Sokka said. He was digging through his dressers, plucking up pieces of clothing and then dropping them back in. “Who knew laying around all day doing nothing could be so exhausting?”

Zuko walked over to his desk. The surface was cluttered with lots of things- notebooks, half-empty Gatorade bottles, a finished Rubiks cube- but Zuko’s eyes caught on Sokka’s open sketchbook. He tilted his head to look at the page it was flipped to. 

“Is this your commission?”

“Hm?” Sokka glanced over at him, then dropped the pajama pants he’d been examining. “Oh, yeah! What do you think?”

Zuko picked up the sketchbook. He wasn’t really sure what Sokka’s online commission system was. He knew that Sokka had a few social media accounts for his art, and that sometimes people paid him to draw things for him.

This one was of a lion prowling through tall glass. Sokka had shaded it in so expertly it looked like it was about to leap off the page at Zuko. Above it, the sky was a swirl of stars and galaxies, and even though it was just a pencil sketch he had somehow captured the elusivity of the night sky.

“It’s not finished yet.” Sokka stood very close to Zuko, looking at the drawing over his shoulder. “I’m going to add color to it.”

“Sokka,” Zuko said. “This is incredible.”

He glanced up at Sokka, whose mouth quirked up a tad awkwardly.

“Aw, babe,” he said. “You flatter me.”

“No,” Zuko said, “seriously. Sokka, you’re… really talented. This is,” he waved his hand over the page. “I mean, this could be in a gallery.” 

Sokka’s skin was too dark for a blush to show up, but he had other tells for when he was flustered- he brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck, lips twitching into an embarrassed, pleased smile. He always soaked in idle praise like a sponge, but when he was being complimented on something he really cared about, he tended to get a little uncomfortable with it.

“Thanks,” he said.

Zuko set the sketchbook carefully back down. Sokka went back over to his dresser, tugging off his hoodie, and Zuko quickly turned away to dig through his bag for his own clothes. He changed quickly, keeping his back towards Sokka, and when he was done he turned back around.

Sokka was lying on the bed scrolling through his phone. He was wearing a pair of blue plaid pajama pants, but nothing else. 

“I normally sleep without a shirt,” he said, shaking his head to flip his hair out of his eyes. “Is that okay? I can totally put one on.”

“No,” Zuko said, even though his brain was short-circuiting. “That’s fine.”

He walked over to the bed and sat down. Sokka dropped his phone and rolled onto his elbow, looking up at Zuko. 

“Wanna hit the lights?” he asked.

Zuko’s heart was pounding. “Sure.” He turned off the lamp on the bedside table, plunging the room into darkness. Sokka’s window was open, the curtains drawn back enough for the moonlight to creep in. It was just bright enough to illuminate some of the shadows, casting Sokka in shades of grey and blue. Zuko watched his bare shoulders as he laid down against the pillows. 

He felt Sokka grab his wrist and went easily, curling up beside him. Sokka’s arm wrapped around Zuko’s waist, tugging him closer.

“I’m glad you stayed,” he said softly.

Zuko’s throat was tight. Sokka leaned in to kiss him, slow. His hand curled at Zuko’s hip, and Zuko hesitantly brought a hand up to Sokka’s chest. His skin was cool to the touch. Zuko spread his fingers, laying his hand across Sokka’s heart, which was beating hard. He brushed his thumb against Sokka’s nipple, applying just a little bit of pressure, and felt Sokka reacting beneath him, inhaling against Zuko’s lips, his hips moving forward to press against Zuko’s.

Sokka rolled onto his back, his hands on Zuko’s waist dragging him with him. Zuko ended up on top of Sokka, still kissing him, losing himself in the feel of Sokka’s lips and teeth and the barest hints of tongue that sent bright shivers down Zuko’s spine. Sokka’s hands crept under Zuko’s shirt. He stroked down Zuko’s back, nails pressing against Zuko’s skin, and Zuko moaned, instinctively pressing down. Sokka’s hands flattened, holding Zuko in place as he pressed his hips up.

“Zuko,” he murmured against Zuko’s lips. He ducked his head, leaving Zuko gasping for air as he kissed Zuko’s neck, biting a line down his throat. 

“Sokka.” Zuko gripped Sokka’s shoulders, tipping his head back as Sokka nipped right above his collarbones. Zuko felt like a live wire, like one loose spark could set him aflame.

He had slept with people before. At first it had been Mai, but despite Zuko’s comfort with her, it had always felt a little awkward, especially before he’d figured out why he was never half as excited as she was. After he had- well, Zuko had plenty of experience, but it had never felt like this. Now it was Sokka underneath him, making small noises as he kept his hands firm on Zuko, holding him down and guiding him into more comfortable positions. Zuko reached up to grip Sokka’s hair, grabbing it with both hands and tugging, and Sokka moaned beneath him, filthy and muffled by Zuko’s neck. 

“God, you’re perfect.” Sokka grabbed the back of Zuko’s head, tugging him back down for a kiss. “Zuko,” he breathed, dragging his nails down Zuko’s spine. 

Sokka’s leg pressed up against Zuko’s crotch. Zuko felt a great rush of panic flood his throat and he gasped, jerking away from Sokka’s hold instinctually. 

Sokka went still. Zuko sat back on his knees, straddling Sokka’s waist. He could feel that Sokka was hard, and Zuko knew that he was, too, but suddenly he couldn’t think of anything except for gasping in air and trying to stop his hands from trembling.

“Zuko,” Sokka said, a little out of breath.

“One second.” Zuko turned away, gazing out the window. He felt warm all over, sticky with sweat, simultaneously ridiculously turned on and ridiculously panicked. He clenched his fists, closing his eyes tight. _Get a fucking grip, Zuko._

“Hey, are you alright?” Sokka brushed his fingers against Zuko’s arm. Zuko soaked in his touch, reminding himself that this was Sokka, and that they were in private, and nobody could see them. 

“I’m fine,” Zuko said, aware that his voice was tight. He swallowed, bracing himself to carry on. He’d be fine if he could just get out of his stupid fucking head for a minute. 

He turned back to Sokka. “I’m fine, we can keep going.” He leaned down to kiss Sokka, but Sokka pressed a hand to Zuko’s chest and gently pushed him back.

“Hey.” Sokka sat up, dislodging Zuko. Zuko rolled off him, watching miserably as Sokka straightened up and said, “What’s up?”

“I’m fine.” Zuko pressed his still-shaking hands against the blankets. “I’m sorry, I-” 

“Don’t apologize.” Sokka’s face was twisted with concern, worry lines lit by the faint moonlight. “Did I do something-?” 

“No,” Zuko said quickly. He took a shaky breath and pressed his hands over his face. He had the absurd urge to cry, and wouldn’t _that_ just be the icing on top of this humiliating cake? “No, you didn’t. It’s me.” 

It was always Zuko. He couldn’t have anything good without fucking it up in the most dramatic way possible. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, voice muffled by his hands. “We can keep going, I swear I’m-

“Zuko.” Sokka gently touched Zuko’s hands, pulling them down away from his face. “We are not going to keep going if you’re upset. Talk to me.” 

Zuko shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

Sokka’s fingers were cool against Zuko’s skin. “Okay,” he said. He hesitated, fingers tightening then loosening around Zuko’s wrist. “Can I- can I touch you? Not to- I understand if you need space-”

“Of course you can,” Zuko said, feeling guilty for making Sokka question himself so much. 

Sokka guided him down so Zuko was lying beside him. He kept his hands carefully above the waist, brushing his fingers along Zuko’s shoulder and arm. He gazed at Zuko intently, his expression scrutinizing. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

Zuko took several slow, long breaths, the way Uncle had showed him. Now that the initial wave of panic had passed, he just felt tired and embarrassed.

“It’s, um,” he said. “It’s been awhile since I- you know.”

He waited for Sokka to grin, or laugh at him, but instead he just nodded, looking thoughtful. “I get that,” he said. “You know, I’ve never been with a guy before, so I was getting a little anxious, too.”

Zuko stared at him. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re-“ Zuko felt his cheeks burning. “You’re really good at it.”

Now Sokka smiled. “Well, thank you,” he said. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

Zuko ducked his head, unable to meet Sokka’s eyes. Sokka trailed his fingers down Zuko’s arm and grabbed his hand, twining their fingers together.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We can wait, if you want.”

Zuko shook his head. “No, I’m fine, you shouldn’t have to-“

“Hey.” Sokka squeezed his fingers tightly. “Can you look at me?”

Zuko frowned, but lifted his head. Sokka’s eyes were bright in the moonlight.

“I’m not in any rush,” he said. “I promise that I don’t mind. I just want you comfortable.”

Zuko’s instinct was to look for any sign of deceit in his words, but Sokka’s voice and expression were earnest, truthful. He was looking at Zuko tenderly, like he was something to be careful with, and Zuko felt pressure building in the back of his throat.

“I’ve never,” he started, and then paused. He swallowed and tried again. “No one’s ever- cared this much.”

Sokka’s fingers tightened around his. “You deserve to be treated well, Zuko,” he said quietly.

Zuko closed his eyes. “I dated this guy in high school,” he said. “Well, not dated, we were just- anyways, he was really nice at first. And then he- wasn’t so nice.”

Sokka brushed his thumb across Zuko’s knuckles. He was lying close enough that Zuko could hear him breathing. “I didn’t know you dated anyone other than Mai.”

“It was a secret,” Zuko said. “My father is, um- not supportive.” Zuko stared at Sokka’s chest. He reached up to touch it with his free hand, drawing a circle against Sokka’s smooth skin. “I got cocky. The last time that guy and I hooked up- we did it at school, behind the gym. My sister saw us and reported it to my father.”

“She what?” Sokka said, sounding affronted, and Zuko winced.

“It’s not Azula’s fault,” he said.

“Uh, I think it kind of is.”

“No. Our father- he favored her, but that doesn’t mean he was nice to her. He’s-“ Zuko broke off, realizing he didn’t have a single word to describe Ozai. Once, he might have called him assertive, powerful. Now, thinking of his sister and the way Ozai had picked at her insecurities until she had scraped them all out just to please him, the only word he could come up with was _cruel_.

“Zuko,” Sokka said. “You don’t have to-“

“It would have been easier if he’d been impossible to please.” Zuko pressed his cheek against the pillow. It smelled like Sokka. “The problem was that it _was_ possible. Azula did it. She always did everything right. And I was always the fuck-up.”

Sokka wrapped his arm around Zuko’s waist, holding him in a half-embrace, and said nothing.

“I used to try so hard.” Zuko exhaled shakily. “So _fucking_ hard. With both of them. Before my mother left, it was easier. She always liked me, at least, even if she never-” Zuko bit his tongue. “Anyways. She left. After that I couldn’t do anything to keep from getting punished by Father, or to make Azula stop picking on me. She- she pushed me off a roof, once.” Zuko couldn’t help but smile. He could remember it all so clearly- the sun blinding him from above, Azula shouting for him to climb higher, up to her, his gaze following her pointed finger out to the horizon. He only had his back turned for a moment. “I broke my wrist.”

“What?” Sokka’s eyes were wide in the dark. “She-”

“My father didn’t even take me to the hospital.” A splintering pain in his wrist that struck like lightning, the feeling of mud and grass underneath him as he writhed on the ground and screamed for help. A dark silhouette, blocking out the sunlight, staring down at him. Just watching. 

Zuko laughed, just a little bit. “He said it was my fault for being clumsier than Azula. I think my bigger mistake was thinking she _wouldn’t_ push me off.”

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t notice Sokka shuddering around him. Zuko blinked, smile dying as he refocused in on Sokka.

“Hey,” Zuko said, raising a hand to touch Sokka’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Am I-?” Sokka closed his eyes. His face was screwed up tight, tension Zuko hadn’t even known existed in him pulling his expression taut. “I’m fine. Are _you_ alright?”

“Of course,” Zuko said. “It was years ago. It actually healed okay. A maid helped me splint it.”

“That’s not-” Sokka’s fingers tightened on Zuko’s hip. “You said that your father punished you.”

“Did I?”

“Yes,” Sokka said. “How did- could you tell me what he-”

“Oh,” Zuko said, stomach sinking. “It wasn’t bad, really. He never did anything I hadn’t earned.”

“Zuko,” Sokka said. His face was suddenly very blank. “How did your father punish you?”

“Well, you know,” Zuko said. He felt uncomfortable. He knew that some of his father’s parenting methods leaned a bit towards the extreme, but he was starting to realize that Sokka really wasn’t reacting well to what he was saying. He knew he should stop. He didn’t know if he could. “Mostly he would just say things, you know, what I’d done wrong and how I’d disappointed him and… all that. He never really yelled, only when-” Zuko froze. He blinked at Sokka’s chin, unable to meet his eyes, then said, “He wouldn’t let me come to meals, sometimes, but that was alright because Ty Lee always snuck me snacks at school. It really wasn’t that bad, Sokka.”  
“Yes it fucking is, Zuko.” Sokka’s voice was loud, harsh in the quiet of his bedroom, and Zuko yanked himself away, adrenaline spiking. He regretted it immediately when a horrified expression crossed Sokka’s face.

“I wasn’t-” Sokka’s eyes were very wide. “Did he ever-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sokka closed his mouth. Zuko’s hands were still shaking. He curled them into tight fists and tucked them close to the blankets.

“Zuko,” Sokka said. “I don’t want to- I don’t want to overstep or anything. But-” He grabbed one of Zuko’s hands, smoothing his thumb across his tense knuckles. “All that shit your dad did to you? It wasn’t okay. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Zuko shook his head. “You don’t understand, he-”

“Zuko.” Sokka reached up to lightly grab Zuko’s chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze. Sokka’s eyes were wide and bright blue and shone strangely through the darkness.

“A father should _never_ hurt their child.”

Zuko’s breath hitched. Sokka’s face crumpled, and he dropped his arm to wrap around Zuko’s back, saying, “Oh, honey.”

Zuko fell against Sokka, pressing his face into the crook of his neck. He wrapped himself in Sokka’s warmth, letting the other boy fold himself around Zuko as he fought for what little control he still had over himself.

“I can’t do it,” he gasped, hands coming up to dig into Sokka’s back, trying to press himself even closer into his embrace. “I can’t do anything to make him proud of me, to make him _like_ me, I do everything wrong-”

Sokka’s arms tightened almost painfully. “You don’t, Zuko,” he said. “The way your father treated you isn’t a reflection of you.”

“Sokka.” Zuko’s head was spinning. He felt lightheaded, overwhelmed, and he suddenly needed someone to _know_ , he needed to say what he had never even dared think to himself. “Sokka, he pushed me.”

Sokka’s eyebrows pinched together. “What do you mean?”

“I told them that I tripped,” Zuko said. He gripped Sokka’s shoulder. He knew Sokka probably thought he had snapped, gone crazy, but he just needed to say it. “He told me I tripped, but he pushed me, Sokka, I know he did, I felt it-”

Sokka gripped Zuko’s hand so tightly Zuko feared his fingers would break. “Where did he push you, Zuko?”

Zuko stared at him, eyes wide. He curled his fingers, digging his nails into Sokka’s bare shoulder.

“The fireplace,” he said.

He watched Sokka connect the dots, watched his eyes shift from Zuko’s gaze to the rest of his face. He went very still, eyes fixed on Zuko’s marred skin.

“He was so mad, Sokka,” Zuko said, unable to stop despite Sokka’s clear horror. It was like someone had switched on a faucet in Zuko’s throat and his words were tumbling out like hot water, scalding everything in their path. “Uncle was on leave and he let me come to a company board meeting and one of the senior executives was discussing pay cuts for some of the lower level employees, and it just didn’t make sense to me because they made so little to begin with and there were better cuts elsewhere so I tried to tell them but all I did was embarrass my father, and when we got home he- he was so _mad_ , Sokka. He was yelling, and he never yelled if he could help it. I got too close to the fire and he-” Zuko felt suffocatingly warm. “And then I tried to get up and he-” 

Zuko remembered a hand on his shoulder, firm, holding him in place as he tried to claw his way out of the flames. He grabbed his wrist, scratching at the textured skin on his palm, at the scars that never quite faded as Zuko had hoped they would. 

“Zuko.” Sokka’s voice was hoarse. He tilted his head, and Zuko saw a sheen of tears on his cheeks. Zuko frowned, reaching up to grab Sokka’s cheeks, to wipe at the wetness there.

“Hey,” he said. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

Sokka’s hand came up to catch Zuko’s, pressing it to his cheek. “Don’t,” he said, and then swallowed. “Don’t apologize. Please. Zuko, that- that’s _horrible_.” 

Zuko stared at him, soaking in his words. His father- yes, Ozai’s discipline was extreme, but-

“He made me think I deserved it,” he said.

Sokka’s fingers tightened around Zuko’s. “Zuko,” he said. “ _No_. You were a _child_. You didn’t deserve _any_ of it.”

Zuko could never imagine Iroh withholding meals from him or slapping him when he spoke out of turn. He didn’t know Hakoda well, but he couldn’t picture him ever raising a hand to Sokka.

“I know,” he whispered. 

Sokka grabbed Zuko clumsily, pulling him close to his chest. Zuko gripped Sokka back just as hard, clinging to him so tightly he would have been embarrassed at any other time. He could feel Sokka’s shoulders trembling, could feel his hand shaking in Zuko’s hair as he stroked it, trying to comfort him even now. Zuko raised his hands back to Sokka’s cheeks, brushing at the tears there.

They were quiet for several minutes. Finally, Sokka took a deep, shaky breath, and said, “Thank you.”

He had stopped crying. Zuko trailed his fingers down to Sokka’s jaw and said, “For what?”

“For telling me.”

Zuko looked at him. They both leaned in at the same time, mouths coming together. They didn’t move for a moment, just stayed locked together, lips pressed against each other. Then Sokka pulled back enough to kiss the corner of Zuko’s mouth, his cheek, his forehead. Zuko tensed instinctually when Sokka’s lips brushed the edge of his scar, but he stayed still as Sokka kissed that, too, as he trailed his lips underneath Zuko’s bad eye and stopped at Zuko’s scarred temple. He stayed there for a moment, mouth pressed to the rough skin, breathing heavily against it. 

Zuko pressed his fingers against Sokka’s back. Sokka lifted his head to look at Zuko and said, “He’s never going to hurt you again.”

Zuko sighed softly. “Sokka-”

“He won’t,” Sokka said. “I won’t let him.” 

Zuko didn’t say anything. Sokka hugged him closer, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Zuko felt exhausted, like he’d been drained of all his energy. 

“You know,” he murmured. “I thought I was going to get laid tonight, not make you cry.”

Sokka laughed, startled and still a little raspy. “There’ll be plenty of time for that,” he said. “Really, Zuko. Thank you for trusting me.”

Zuko shut his eyes. “I trust you more than anyone.” 

Sokka paused a moment. “Get some rest,” he whispered. His fingers were back in Zuko’s hair. “We can talk more in the morning.” 

Zuko wanted to protest, but his exhaustion was starting to win. He fell asleep slowly to the sound of Sokka breathing, to the feeling of warm arms wrapped around Zuko like a safety net.

X X X X X

Zuko woke up to warm sunlight on his skin. He blinked himself awake, gaze drifting over to the open window. He was wrapped in a swath of blankets, pleasantly cocooned in the heat.

He glanced to the side. Sokka was sprawled out facedown across most of the bed, arms thrown up over his head. He was hanging half off the bed, a precarious position, and Zuko felt a smirk creep onto his face. 

Sokka snored loudly against the sheets. Zuko sat up very carefully and shifted so he could put his foot on Sokka’s hip. All it took was a well-placed nudge to tip his weight too far over the edge, sending Sokka tumbling to the floor. 

“Agh!” Sokka thudded loudly down. A few seconds later his head poked back up to glare at Zuko. “What the fuck, dude!” 

Zuko laughed. “Good morning.”

“Oh, okay.” Sokka stood up, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “First, you steal all the blankets, which totally isn’t fair cause you’re a fucking furnace all by yourself-”

“Furnace?” Zuko asked, amused.

“Yes, you are hot both literally and physically, whatever,” Sokka said, waving his hand dismissively. 

“Tell me more,” Zuko said with a grin. 

“Shut up, jerk.” Sokka hopped back into bed. Despite his irritation, he fell back against Zuko, resting his head on Zuko’s chest. “I’m gonna have a bruise.”

“Baby,” Zuko said, hooking his arms around Sokka. 

“Yes, dear?” 

Zuko rolled his eyes. He leaned down to drop a kiss to Sokka’s forehead.

“Hmm,” Sokka hummed, his eyes shut. He opened them to grin up at Zuko. “For some reason I feel a lot better now.”

“You’re really corny, you know that?” 

“Yes, but you like it.” 

Zuko’s lips twitched upwards. 

Sokka’s smile faded. “Are you feeling alright?”

Zuko didn’t have to ask what he meant. He remembered every second of what had happened last night. He tightened his arms around Sokka and said, “Yeah. Listen, I’m-”

“If you apologize,” Sokka said, “I will set Toph on you.”

Zuko pulled a face at him. “Seriously, Sokka.”

“I’m being serious. You don’t have anything to apologize for, Zuko. Not for telling me about it, or- or any of it. Okay?” 

Zuko brought a hand up to trace the line of Sokka’s nose. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Sokka kept still as Zuko brushed his finger along his cheek, down to the cupid’s bow of his lips. “On a completely unrelated note,” Sokka said, moving Zuko’s finger every time he opened his mouth, “what’s your dad’s address?”

“And why do you need that, exactly?” 

“No reason.” Sokka glanced up at the expression on Zuko’s face and said, “I would only punch him _once_. Really hard.”

Zuko gazed down at him, unimpressed. “You’re not going to fight my father.”

“Hey, I would win.” 

“Not the point.”

Sokka sat up, drawing himself out of Zuko’s arms to twist around and face him. He kneeled beside Zuko, cupping his face with both hands and leaning in to kiss him. Zuko was still stunned by how good Sokka was at this. He apparently didn’t exaggerate his talents as much as everyone else thought he did. 

Sokka brushed his thumbs against Zuko’s cheeks, trailing along the edge of his scar. “You can talk to me about this anytime you need to,” he said. He hesitated. “I probably won’t say the right things, but I promise I’ll listen.”

It was too early for tears to be pricking at Zuko’s eyes. “You always say the right thing,” he said.

Sokka smiled. Zuko leaned up to press his lips to Sokka's, and they stayed like that for a long time, wrapped around each other, trading slow kisses. 

After a few minutes, Sokka pulled back far enough to say, “Not that this isn’t an amazing way to wake up, but if I don’t get bacon in the next fifteen minutes I think my stomach is going to literally eat itself.” 

Zuko laughed and pushed at Sokka’s shoulders. “Get up, then,” he said. “I’ll make it.”

“Aw, thank you, sweetheart,” Sokka said, smiling dopily at him.

Zuko slid off the bed. “Don’t,” he said. “I’m doing it out of self-preservation. You’re not allowed in the kitchen ever again.”

Zuko earned a pillow to the back of the head for that one. It was totally worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: discussions of/brief flashbacks to child abuse, panic attacks, victim blaming, mild sexual content (all in second part). 
> 
> Hi everyone! Sorry that this chapter was a little heavier than usual. I hope that you're all doing well and staying safe! A huge storm hit my town a few days ago and I'm still without wifi because of it, so I've been hopping around to every university building I can to mooch off their wifi and update this. I knew my tuition money would pay off someday! 
> 
> Thank you for all of your support. As usual, I am blown away every chapter by your amazing comments and all the kudos. You all make my day <3


	15. Chapter 15

“Here’s your Earl Grey, Ms. Fon,” Sokka said, setting the tray down on her table. He smiled as he placed the teacup in front of her. “Did you do something different with your hair? It looks wonderful.”

“Well, thank you! I just had a few inches cut off,” Ms. Fon said, reaching up to touch her dark hair. She watched Sokka pour her tea, then said, “I must say, your tea-serving is _much_ improved.” 

Sokka set the teapot back down on the table. “I was well taught.”

Ms. Fon put her hand to her mouth and giggled a little bit. “Yes, please tell Iroh hello for me,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. 

Sokka wanted to scrub his eyes out with soap. “Of course, Ms. Fon,” he said. He bowed his head. “Enjoy your tea.”

He stopped by a few other tables on his way back to the kitchen, gathering empty dishes and checking that each of the customers were happy. He slipped back through the curtain, arms full, and crossed the room to dump them all in the sink.

He paused at the basin, hands braced against the edge. He glanced over his shoulder. Iroh’s office door was open. Sokka bit his lip, chewing on it indecisively before huffing and going to approach the door.

Sokka knocked twice on the doorframe and poked his head in. “Ms. Fon sends her warmest regards,” he said.

Iroh looked up from the book he was reading. He raised his eyebrows. “Again?” He sighed. “And here I had hoped she had developed a sudden taste for coffee.”

Sokka grinned briefly. Iroh looked at him over the rim of his glasses, then closed his book. 

“I just brewed a fresh pot of Jasmine,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “Would you join me for a cup?”

“I can’t stay long,” Sokka said, even as he walked into the office and swung the door halfway shut behind him. “There’s no one up front.”

Iroh went to the teaset on the table in the corner of his room, glancing over his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at Sokka. “Are you trying to run my shop for me, Sokka?”

Sokka smiled a bit ruefully. “Sorry,” he said. He sat down on the sofa, sinking back into the soft cushions.

Iroh chuckled. “It seems I was right about you.” He walked back over carrying two cups of tea, handing one down to Sokka and moving to sit back down in his armchair across from him. “You’re an excellent fit here.”

"Aw, Iroh,” Sokka said. “You’re only saying that because I made Zuko take time off.”

“It is nice to see my nephew taking a break,” Iroh agreed. He blew softly across the top of his tea. “Now, what is it that you wish to ask me?”

Sokka opened his mouth to ask how Iroh had known he had a question, then shut it again. He had learned by now that Iroh was probably a mind reader.

“I wanted to ask,” Sokka said, then paused for a moment. “Does Zuko’s father- I mean, does Zuko talk to his dad a lot?” 

Iroh lowered his tea. Sokka quickly said, “I know I should be asking Zuko about this, but I didn’t want to- I didn’t want to upset him, or-”

“I understand, Sokka,” Iroh said, cutting off what was quickly about to turn into some impressive rambling. He sighed. He suddenly looked incredibly tired. “Zuko has had very little contact with his father these past three years. With his graduation approaching, I am afraid Ozai will be looking for ways to come back into Zuko’s life.”

Sokka pressed his thumb against the side of his teacup, feeling the heat of it. “Did you know-” Sokka broke off his words, dropping his gaze to the carpet. 

“Did I know what?”

Sokka shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, my boy,” Iroh said. When Sokka looked up at him, his expression was kind. “Are you alright?” 

Sokka’s next breath came out shaky. He clutched his teacup tighter and said, “I’m worried that I’m going to do the wrong thing. With Zuko, I mean. I don’t- I don’t want to make anything worse, you know? I mean, I want to be there for him, but what if I do or say something wrong? I just-” He shook his head, trying to knock his thoughts together into something comprehensible. “Sorry. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does,” Iroh said. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, thinking to himself for a moment. “It is difficult to hear about someone we care about being hurt. It is human instinct to want to ease that suffering. But Sokka, you have already done so much good for Zuko. I can confidently say that I have never seen him happier than he is now.”

Sokka smiled a little bit. “I think Zuko did most of the work himself.”

“He did,” Iroh agreed. “But you should never discount the value of true friendship.”

Sokka sipped at his tea, thinking this over. The jasmine was rich and smooth, and warmed his throat when he swallowed. “It still doesn’t feel like enough.”

“You mustn’t be so hard on yourself, my boy.” Iroh smiled. “There is no one I’d rather see Zuko confide in than you.”

Sokka swallowed. He was pleased with the praise, but he could feel the pressure of it, of Iroh’s trust, coiled around his shoulders. “Thank you.”

Iroh looked at him closely. “You may come speak to me about this at any time, Sokka,” he said. “While it is important to support those that you care about, it can be exhausting taking on their emotions as your own. Make sure that you are asking for help when you need it.”

“I will,” Sokka said.

“Take your tea with you,” Iroh said. “We wouldn’t want to waste a perfectly good cup of jasmine, would we?”

Sokka laughed. “Thanks, Iroh,” he said as he stood up. He felt a little bit lighter, even though it hadn’t felt right sharing anything Zuko had told him in confidence. “I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, my boy,” Iroh said. He waved a hand at the door and said, “Please tell Ms. Fon that I will be away on business for the next few weeks.”

Sokka paused in the doorway. “You’re leaving?”

“No,” Iroh said. He winked at Sokka. “But she does not need to know that.”

Sokka chuckled and shook his head, leaving the door open behind him. Before he went to go check on the customers, he tucked his tea carefully away on one of the kitchen counters for safekeeping. 

X X X X X

Sokka propped his chin up in his hand, squinting down at the drawing he was working on. He tapped his pen against the counter, then said, “Hey, does this look like a foot?”

Zuko looked up. He was holding a piping bag full of yellow cream that Sokka was trying very hard not to make a joke about, and his hair was tied back the way Sokka liked it.

“Let me see,” he said. Sokka turned the paper around and pushed it across the counter, and Zuko tilted his head to look at it. “Yeah, it does. Sokka, that’s really good.”

“Thanks.” Sokka tugged it back over to him. “This is the most money I’ve ever received for a commission. It has to be perfect.”

“You’re off to a great start.” Zuko picked up another cream puff off the baking sheet, shoving the piping bag through the bottom to fill it. He had declared, upon arriving to the Jasmine Dragon that morning, that he was ‘trying something new, so it might not be that good, Sokka.’ Sokka thought the cream puffs looked just as amazing as everything else Zuko made. “You make a good amount of money from commissions, don’t you?”

Sokka laughed, swinging his heel against the stool he was sitting on. “I wouldn’t say a good amount,” he said. “I don’t have time to do a lot of them. Gotta make real money, you know?”

"The money you make off of your art is real,” Zuko said.

“Tell that to my sister,” Sokka said with a grin.

Zuko set the finished cream puff down on a cooling rack and frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

"Oh, just that she’s always wanted to do these grand things, and she’s actually doing them,” Sokka said. He added a few more lines to his drawing, sketching out the shape of a torso. “Me? I wanted to be a comic book artist in high school, and now I serve tea. Disappointed, but not surprised.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to be a comic book artist.”

“Well,” Sokka said with a shrug. “Like I said, it was high school. I didn’t really understand how the real world works.”

Zuko’s brow creased with a frown. He stared at Sokka for a moment, then picked up another cream puff. “That’s stupid,” he said, pushing the piping bag into it.

“Excuse me?”

“Plenty of people make a living doing art. Why can’t you?”

Sokka stared at him incredulously. “Those people-”

“If you try to tell me that they’re more talented than you, I’ll throw this cream puff at you.”

“I’ll catch it.”

Zuko looked annoyed, and for a moment Sokka was worried he actually _was_ going to chuck a pastry at him. Instead, he pulled out the piping bag and held the cream puff out to Sokka.

“You’re really good at what you do, Sokka,” Zuko said as Sokka accepted the treat from him. “And I’m not just saying that. If you don’t believe me, believe all the people who pay you for your work.”

“Those are just random people on the internet,” Sokka said.

"And people who buy comic books are just random people who want to read them.” Zuko leaned up against the counter, looking at Sokka closely. “I’m not trying to be pushy or anything, but I hate to see you discount your talents so much. If you still want to make comics, well- I’d be the first in line to buy a copy.”

Sokka’s chest felt warm. He shook his head slowly, staring at Zuko and his earnest expression and his yellow-gold eyes.

"How’d I get lucky enough to be with you?” he asked.

Zuko’s cheeks went pink even as he scowled. “Don’t try and change the subject.”

“Just making an observation,” Sokka said. He smiled. “Thanks, Zuko. I’ll- I’ll think about it.”

Zuko hummed. He picked up an oven mitt and went to go check on the next batch of cream puffs. Sokka took advantage of his absence to take a bite of his, and immediately tipped his head back with a moan.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he said. He couldn’t remember ever having a cream puff before, and he didn’t know how he’d gone so long without it. The pastry was flaky and buttery, and the cream inside was so sweet and rich Sokka thought he was going to melt.

Zuko took the baking sheet out of the oven and closed the door with his knee. “Thank you,” he said with a small, embarrassed smile.

Sokka took another bite of his cream puff, chewing it loudly as he watched Zuko set the sheet down and pick up the piping bag again. “You ‘ould ‘o ish,” he said through a mouthful of cream.

“Words, please.”

Sokka swallowed. “You could do this.”

“What are you talking about?”

Sokka waved his almost-finished cream puff in the air. “People already pay you for this shit,” he said. “You could totally, I dunno, open a bakery or something. You’re really good at this.”

Zuko dropped his gaze. “It’s just a hobby.”

“So’s my art. I hate to see you discount your talents, Zuko.”

Zuko looked annoyed at having his own words used against him. He set down the piping bag very deliberately and said, “I told my father-”

“Fuck him.”

Zuko’s eyebrows climbed higher. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, Zuko,” Sokka said, “do you even _want_ to work at his company?”

"It doesn’t matter what I want, Sokka,” Zuko said. He was starting to look pretty irritated, which probably should have been a sign that Sokka should back off. Still, Sokka couldn’t understand how Zuko could _still_ want to work for that asshole.

“Of course it does! You’re getting a business degree. You can do anything with that!”

“I got that degree so I could fulfill my duties at the family’s company.”

“But if you could do anything in the world, what would you want to do?”

“It doesn’t _matter_ , Sokka!”

Sokka sat back on his stool and raised his eyebrows at Zuko. Zuko turned away so Sokka could only see the unscarred side of his face, which was already twisting with remorse.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean to yell.”

Sokka pushed his stool back and stood up. Zuko’s shoulders hunched lower.

"You don’t have to leave,” he said quietly.

Sokka’s throat tightened. “I’m not leaving,” he said. He walked around the counter to approach Zuko. “Hey. Could you look at me?”

It took a few seconds. Finally, Zuko turned to face Sokka, raising his head so that his eyes were fixed on Sokka’s chest. _Okay, close enough._

“I’m not trying to pressure you into anything,” Sokka said. “I just- I want you to be happy. I want you to do something that will make you happy. Nothing you’ve ever said about working for your father has made me think that it’s something you actually want to do.”

Zuko hesitated. “I don’t know what else I would do,” he said. “Everything I’ve ever done… it’s been to end up at the company, and I’m not even qualified for _that_.”

“Why would you say that?”

"Azula always said I’m lucky Father is willing to give me so many chances.”

Sokka felt slightly sick at the way Zuko said that, like he was reciting some kind of holy text. Had he sounded like this in high school, too? If Sokka had paid more attention, would he have realized that everything Zuko said back then was written out for him like a script?

"Your father’s an idiot for not seeing how incredible you are,” Sokka said. “And for the record, I don’t think I would get along with your sister very well.”

“Probably not,” Zuko said. He sighed. “Thanks, Sokka. I’ll consider what you said.”

That seemed to be the best Sokka was going to get for now.

Zuko let Sokka wrap him in a hug. Sokka held him close, pressing his face into Zuko’s sweater and breathing in the warm scent of cinnamon. 

After a few moments, Zuko gently pushed Sokka away. “These need to be done by the time we open,” he said, gesturing at the cooling cream puffs.

"Don’t let me get in the way of art,” Sokka said with a grin. Zuko rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he picked up the piping bag again.

“You’re my best taste-tester,” he said. “You could never be in the way.”

Sokka beamed as he returned to his seat. He picked up his pencil and went back to his drawing, trying to get it mostly sketched out by the time he had to work.

He wanted to get this commission done so he could consider taking on a few more requests.

The extra money couldn’t hurt.

X X X X X

“Hot tea, ready to spill!” Sokka said loudly as he walked past the counter. Zuko looked up from the order sheets he was filling out for Iroh with a scowl.

“You don’t have to say that every time,” he said.

Sokka spun on his heel and winked at Zuko, then flipped back around to walk over to the Pai Sho table. Jinpa and Fung were deep in their game, and hardly looked up when Sokka dropped a fresh pot off for them.

“Thank you, Sokka,” Jinpa said, gaze fixed on the board.

"No problem. Who’s winning?”

“I am,” Jinpa and Fung said at the same time, and then glared at each other. Sokka chuckled and backed away before they could start arguing. He’d seen it happen once before, and it wasn’t an experience he was looking forward to repeating.

As Sokka was tucking the tray under his arm, the bell over the front door rang. He glanced over to check who it was, then felt his mood soar.

“Dad!” he called, throwing his hand up in a wave. Hakoda caught sight of him and smiled.

“Hey, Sokka,” he said. He walked over, glancing around with his eyebrows raised in what Sokka knew was approval. “I thought I would take you up on your offer to visit.” 

“You came at a good time,” Sokka said. It was just after their afternoon rush, which meant he’d have plenty of time to visit with his father. “C’mon, you can sit down. Do you drink tea?”

Hakoda followed Sokka to the table he was waving him towards. “Not really,” he said. “Have you got any recommendations?”

“I normally leave that to Zuko.”

Zuko chose that moment- impeccable timing, really- to approach them. His hands were clasped behind his back and he had that awkward, stiff smile he always got when he was uncomfortable, but his voice was steady as he said, “It’s nice to see you again, sir.”

“Hakoda,” Sokka’s father reminded him. He smiled warmly. “It’s nice to see you as well, Zuko. How have you been?”

“I’ve been great, thank you. How has your leave been?”

“Better now that I finally have the chance to try some of this tea my children have been raving about. I heard you’re the one with the recommendations.”

Zuko shot a look at Sokka out of the corner of his eye, so briefly he almost missed it. “Certainly,” he said. “Our house specialty is jasmine. I typically recommend that to first-time customers.”

“It’s good,” Sokka said to his dad.

“I’ll trust the experts, then,” said Hakoda.

Zuko tipped his head into a quick bow. “I’ll go prepare a pot.”

“I can do it, Zuko,” Sokka protested, but Zuko shook his head.

“You should visit with your father,” he said with a small smile. Then, to Hakoda, “I’ll let my uncle know that you’re here. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Thank you, Zuko,” Hakoda said as Zuko turned and left.

Sokka dropped down into the chair beside Hakoda. He rolled his ankles, stretching them out with a sigh. “I’m pooped.”

“How long have you been working?”

“Forty-three minutes.”

Hakoda chuckled. “How taxing,” he said.

“Hey, pouring tea is hard,” Sokka said. “It’s all about the angles.”

Hakoda shook his head, looking amused. His face looked tired and worn, but content. Sokka was struck each time his father came back by how much he seemed to age between visits. He wasn’t old by any measure, but his face had a few more lines than it had last year.

“This is a beautiful space,” Hakoda said, looking around at the shop’s decorations. “Not somewhere I’d imagined you working.”

Sokka pointed at him. “Rude,” he said. “I think I managed pretty well for myself, thank you very much.”

“You did,” Hakoda agreed. He crossed his hands in front of him and smiled at Sokka. “I’m sure I’ve already said this, but Zuko is a very nice young man, Sokka. He seems good for you.”

Sokka grinned. “He is,” he said. “I’m glad you had the chance to meet him.”

"I am as well.”

Sokka scratched at the wooden table with his nail. “You don’t have any idea when you’ll be back again?”

Hakoda’s smile dropped. “No,” he said, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Sokka. I wasn’t due for leave now, so I don’t anticipate I’ll be home for quite a while.”

Sokka nodded. “That’s okay,” he said. He mustered a smile for his father. “I’m just glad you were able to be here for the holidays.”

Hakoda frowned, but before he could say anything else, Iroh’s voice rang out, “Sokka! You didn’t tell me we were expecting guests!”

Sokka tipped his head back to grin at Iroh. “He was a surprise drop-in.”

Iroh walked over, setting the teapot he was carrying down on the table. Zuko trailed along behind him, a tray piled with teacups in his hands. He was eyeing his uncle cautiously.

“You must be Sokka’s father,” Iroh said with a warm smile, “Mr.-?”

“Please,” Hakoda said, offering a hand to Iroh. “Call me Hakoda.”

Iroh laughed as he shook Hakoda’s hand. “Then you must call me Iroh! Now, my nephew tells me that you ordered jasmine tea, but you simply must try one of my newest blends. It just came in this morning.”

Zuko set the tray down on the table. As he distributed the cups, he caught Sokka’s eye, and Sokka had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.

“That sounds wonderful,” Hakoda said. “Although I must admit, I have very little experience with tea.”

“That’s what your son said when he first came to work here. And look at him now!” Iroh sat in the chair beside Hakoda and smiled at Sokka. “He can brew a mighty fine pot of pu’er!”

“Thanks, Iroh,” Sokka said with a grin.

“Sokka has said nothing but good things about his time here,” Hakoda said.

Zuko picked up the teapot and began pouring them each a cup. Iroh crossed his hands over his stomach and leaned back in his seat. “Sokka is a fine worker,” he said. “And a very fine young man. Wouldn’t you agree, Zuko?” 

Zuko splashed a bit of tea on the table and glared at Iroh. “Uncle!”

Iroh chuckled. “He thinks I’m embarrassing,” he said to Hakoda.

“They always do,” Hakoda said. “Has Sokka told you about the time he got third place in his middle school talent show? He used a fake sword to-”

“Dad!”

Hakoda and Iroh both laughed. Sokka shared a look at Zuko, who had taken the seat next to him, and saw his own fear reflected back at him.

“Sokka tells me that you serve in the navy,” Iroh said. He picked up his tea and sniffed it, smiling contentedly. “I’m a military man, myself, but I have made friends in all branches.”

Hakoda looked pleasantly surprised. “I do,” he said. “I serve with the Pacific Fleet.”

Iroh nodded. “Very admirable,” he said. “Although I’m sure you have been enjoying your time home!”

“I appreciate any chance I get to spend time with my children.”

“They grow up far too quickly,” Iroh agreed. He looked a little sentimental as he smiled at Zuko. “Why, it seems like just yesterday I was accompanying Zuko and his mother to the theater for his eighth birthday. He liked to dress up as his favorite characters from the show. I believe he wore-”

“Uncle,” Zuko said in warning. Sokka was privately hoping that Iroh would continue; Zuko had heard so many embarrassing stories about him, and Sokka would love the chance to get even.

“Has Sokka ever told you about Flight of the Boomerang?” Hakoda asked.

Never mind. Sokka set his cup down and stood up. “Zuko,” he said, “there are like, a ton of dishes to do. We should probably go do them. Right now.”

"I finished them earlier,” Zuko said. Sokka glared at him, and after a moment he blinked with sudden understanding. “Oh! Those dishes. Yes, we should- Uncle, do you mind if-”

“Go,” Iroh said with a chuckle. “Hakoda and I have plenty to discuss. Would you like more tea, Hakoda?”

“Please,” Hakoda said, offering his cup.

Sokka tried not to think about that too hard. He grabbed Zuko’s hand, tugging him out of his seat and pulling him across the room towards the kitchen.

“They had to have planned that,” he said, shoving through the curtain.

“No,” Zuko said. “My uncle is just like that.”

Sokka glanced at Zuko. He grinned, feeling just a little bit evil. “Did you really dress up to go to the theatre?”

Zuko crossed his arms. “This is the second time I’ve heard of Flight of the Boomerang,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “When am I going to get a preview?”

Sokka winced and said, “Fine, I yield.”

Zuko grinned. “How long are we hiding for?”

“However long it takes for them to get all that embarrassing shit out of their system,” Sokka said. “It could be a long time. Hours, even. Sorry, you’re stuck with me.”

“Oh,” Zuko said. His smile made Sokka’s heart skip. “I think I can deal with that.”

They eventually did go out to rejoin Hakoda and Iroh, but only because they were worried about what rumors would be spread in their absence. Hakoda and Iroh got along like a house on fire, and despite their attempts to humiliate their respective son or nephew, they passed a pleasant afternoon chatting over their drinks. By the end of it, Iroh was promising to send care packages of tea to Hakoda when he was overseas.

“I’d appreciate that,” Hakoda said as Iroh walked him to the front door. “I’m afraid my brews won’t be quite as well done as yours, though.”

“Your son will be able to give you any guidance you need.” Iroh held out his hand, and Hakoda shook it. “It was lovely meeting you, Hakoda. I hope we will be seeing a lot of each other in the future.”

“I as well,” Hakoda said with a smile. “Look after my son for me.”

“Dad,” Sokka complained as Iroh bowed his head. Hakoda chuckled and reached out to pat Sokka’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said. “Goodbye, Zuko. Good luck with your last semester.”

“Thank you,” Zuko said, dipping into a shallow bow.

The bell tinkled as Hakoda left. Iroh sighed happily and said, “What a wonderful afternoon!”

He turned to wander away. Zuko looked at Sokka, his expression very serious, and said, “We never speak about this again, okay?”

“Deal,” Sokka agreed, holding his hand out for a handshake. Zuko grasped it, mouth lifting into a smile.

X X X X X

“Alright,” Toph said. She held her arms out in front of her, waggling her fingers in the air. “Someone point me at Claire’s.”

“You aren’t getting another piercing, Toph,” said Katara with a sigh.

“You’re not my mom.”

“Where would you even put it?” Zuko asked, examining Toph’s ears as they walked through the mall. They were already studded with piercings, hoops and little silver balls sticking out of them. There wasn’t much space left.

Toph crossed her eyes at him. “I’d find a spot.”

“You could always just use a safety pin like I did,” Sokka said.

“Didn’t your piercing get infected?” Aang asked. Sokka waved him off.

“Details.”

Zuko shot him a look, mouth twisted into a smile. “Thank you for keeping him alive for so long,” he said to Katara.

“It’s been difficult,” Katara said gravely.

“Oh!” Aang bounced up on his toes, face splitting into a smile. “The candle store! C’mon, Katara!”

He grabbed Katara’s hand and she followed willingly, laughing at his excitement. They disappeared through the open doors of the shop, which was bright and crowded with people poking around at the candles. Through the windows Sokka saw Aang rush at one of the shelves, immediately snatching up jars.

Toph groaned loudly and ground to a halt next to a plastic bench outside the store. “No way,” she said. “That place is an assault on my nose.”

“We can stay out here,” Zuko said.

Toph smiled and latched onto Zuko’s arm. “That’s why you’re my favorite,” she said, leaning up against him.

Sokka threw his hands in the air. “I’m still here, too.”

“Sorry,” Toph said. She dropped her head against Zuko’s shoulder and blinked at him. “Didn’t see you there.”

Zuko laughed. Sokka crossed his arms and glared at her, but despite his feigned irritation, he wasn’t as annoyed as he should have been at her clear favoritism. Maybe because he could understand it- it was Zuko, after all. “And to think I was going to sneak you into Claire’s,” he said.

“I don’t need you to sneak me anywhere.” Toph lifted her head and turned to Zuko. “Hey, dorkus maximus, why don’t you get your ears pierced?”

She reached out to pinch Zuko’s earlobe. Zuko turned his head away, pulling a face.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

Sokka’s eyes widened. “Babe. Babe, that would be so hot.”

"I don’t care,” Zuko said to him. “I’m not shoving a needle through my ear.”

“Wimp,” said Toph.

“But mine is so sexy,” Sokka whined.

Zuko pursed his lips, eyeing Sokka’s shark tooth earring. “Mm.”

Sokka gasped. “Babe!”

Zuko shook his head and reached out to grab Sokka’s chin. “Kidding,” he said, tugging Sokka closer to brush their lips together. Sokka registered warm lips, a flutter in his stomach, before a hand on his chest shoved him away from Zuko.

“Dudes,” Toph said, glaring at nothing. She was still gripping Zuko’s arm, but looked like she regretted her decision a little bit. “I’m literally right here.”

Katara and Aang emerged from the store, each carrying a plastic purple bag, hands twined together between them. Aang grinned at them as he approached.

“I got this candle that smells exactly like a cinnamon roll,” he said. “Katara got one that smells like pickerelweeds!”

“What the fuck is pickle weed,” said Sokka.

Katara lifted her bag a little higher and quirked an eyebrow at Sokka. “A _pickerelweed_ is an aquatic plant,” she said. “Not that _you_ would know that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

"If someone doesn’t point me in the direction of a pretzel stand or Hot Topic in the next fifteen seconds, I’ll tell mall security you all kidnapped me,” announced Toph.

“I think Hot Topic is up this way, Toph,” Aang said.

Toph slapped Zuko’s arm. “Go, seeing eye dork!”

“You’re not very nice,” Zuko said, but dutifully started walking in the direction Aang had pointed them. Sokka hurried to catch up, coming up to walk on Zuko’s other side so he wasn’t stuck with the two lovebirds and their pickle candles.

“I still think we should head over to the food court,” he said, hooking his arm through Zuko’s so he was sandwiched between Sokka and Toph.

“After Hot Topic,” Toph said.

“You know,” said Zuko, looking unbothered by the capture of both of his arms, “for some reason I thought Hot Topic wasn’t around anymore.”

“Oh, you are very mistaken, my man,” Sokka said. He grinned at Zuko. “Why do I feel like you definitely shopped there in high school?”

“I did not,” Zuko said, but spots of red appeared in his cheeks.

"You did,” Sokka crowed. “C’mon, you were _so_ angsty back then.”

“It’s okay to be emo, Zuko,” Toph said, patting his elbow comfortingly.

“I am not emo! And didn’t you have an eyeliner phase in high school?” Zuko shot at Sokka.

Sokka scoffed. “And I totally rocked it.”

"Well _I_ thought it looked nice,” Toph said, and both Sokka and Zuko groaned.

As they approached Hot Topic- which looked just as dark and threatening as it always had- Zuko’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He tugged his arm out of Sokka’s to grab it, glancing at the screen.

He stopped walking so abruptly Toph almost tripped. She raised her head to glare at him. “Hey, watch the blind girl!”

Zuko didn’t answer. He was staring at his phone screen, which was tilted just high enough to hide it from Sokka’s view. Zuko’s expression had gone very blank, and any color in his face had drained out, leaving him a little sickly-looking under the mall’s fluorescent lighting.

"Zuko?” Sokka asked, frowning in concern.

Zuko blinked. His phone was still buzzing in his hand. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, Toph. I have to take this.”

“We can wait for you,” Aang said, coming up along behind them with Katara.

Zuko shook his head. “That’s alright,” he said. He gently pulled away from Toph’s grip, guiding her hand over to Sokka’s arm instead. “You guys can go in. I’ll meet you inside when I’m done.”

He turned to walk away, raising the phone up to his ear. Sokka watched him go, stomach twisting with a feeling of foreboding.

Toph tugged on his arm. “Yo, earth to Sokka.”

Sokka blinked. “Sorry,” he said. He glanced at Katara, whose gaze moved between Sokka and Zuko’s retreating figure with obvious worry. “I think I’ll just wait out here for him, if that’s alright.”

Toph frowned suspiciously. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing,” Katara said. She moved to Toph’s other side and took her arm. “C’mon, we’re at Hot Topic.”

“Tell me if the idiot needs anything,” Toph called over her shoulder to Sokka as the three of them walked towards the store.

Sokka turned to look for Zuko, but the other boy had disappeared. He walked over to the bench next to Hot Topic and sat down. He kicked at the linoleum with the toe of his sneaker, trying not to worry about whatever call Zuko was taking.

It seemed like hours before Zuko returned, but it was probably no more than five minutes. He walked up to Sokka, hands hanging loose at his side, gaze fixed somewhere above Sokka’s head.

“Hey.” Sokka jumped to his feet and approached him quickly. “You good?”

Zuko nodded, still not meeting Sokka’s eye. “Yeah.”

Sokka touched his arm, brushing his thumb against Zuko’s sweater. He had hoped to be comforting, but Zuko didn’t even react to his touch. “Who was it?”

Zuko paused for a moment. “Uncle,” he said. He met Sokka’s eyes and smiled. Sokka’s head buzzed loudly, telling him that something wasn’t right. “He wanted to know if I’d be home for dinner.”

Sokka hesitated. Before he could push any further- should he push? Zuko tended to snap easily when questioned too hard about something he clearly didn’t want to talk about- their friends emerged from the store, rejoining them.

“There wasn’t much to look at,” Aang said with a shrug. He swung his bag in his hand, eyes flicking over to Zuko and then away again.

Toph drew up alongside Zuko and grabbed his arm. “C’mon, nerd,” she said. “You’re taking me to get a pretzel.”

She tugged Zuko forward, and he followed, guiding them away from the wall. Sokka watched them go, confusion and concern battling for dominance in his chest. It had been a long time since he’d felt this shut out from whatever Zuko was feeling, but despite his instincts warning him to check on Zuko, he didn’t think the attention would be wanted.

“What happened?” Katara asked.

Sokka shook his head. They started walking, trailing after Zuko and Toph who were pretty far ahead of them by now. “I don’t know,” he said.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Aang said, smiling reassuringly even as his brow furrowed.

“Yeah,” Sokka said, staring hard at the back of Zuko’s head.

By the time they caught up to them at the pretzel stand, they each had a pretzel in hand. Toph still had her arm linked with Zuko’s, and a little bit of color had come back into Zuko’s face. He met Sokka’s eyes when he approached, lips turned up in a small, awkward smile.

“Cinnamon sugar,” Sokka noted, glancing at Zuko’s pretzel and ignoring his own worries. “Why am I not surprised?”

“If you want a piece, you just have to ask,” Zuko said.

“I’m saving my appetite for the food court, thank you very much.”

“Where are we going next?” Aang asked.

Toph took a huge bite of her pretzel. “I think Zuko should choose,” she said through a mouthful of bread.

Zuko looked startled. “Oh, that’s okay-”

"You haven’t picked yet, Zuko,” Katara said. She smiled kindly at him. “Where do you want to go?”

Zuko hesitated. “Actually,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind going to the food court.”

“You’re supposed to pick somewhere _you_ want to go,” Toph said, but Sokka was already grinning and bouncing forward to grab Zuko’s free hand.

"Shut up, Toph, let my boyfriend speak,” he said. He squeezed Zuko’s fingers tightly, a little desperately, and after a moment Zuko squeezed back. “C’mon, I think they have sushi.”

“I’m not eating mall sushi,” Zuko said, but he was smiling as Sokka gently tugged him and Toph back in the direction they had come.

“Your standards are way too high,” Sokka said.

“Then why’s he dating you?” Katara asked.

Everyone laughed except Sokka, who looked back at his sister with a wounded expression. “Betrayed by my own family? It’s more likely than you think.”

“I still think we should make Zuko get his ears pierced,” said Toph.

“Shut up or I’ll take you to Sephora,” said Zuko.

Sokka laughed along with everyone else at Toph’s look of repulsion and tried to put whatever had happened out of his mind. Zuko was here, and happy, and surrounded by people who cared about him.

That was all Sokka was concerned with right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone :')
> 
> I hope you're all doing well! A couple of updates- based off of my current outline, this story should have two more chapters and an epilogue left (very subject to change, but that's the plan rn!). I plan to release the prologue for my next Zukka fic pretty soon, but the actual story won't be posted until after this fic ends. I've been working on this new fic as I was writing this one, and I am crazy excited about it. It's another slowburn AU, but it's set in the world of ATLA, so I am beyond pumped to write some bending. It's going to be a really big project, but I think you're all going to like it!
> 
> Life update- still without wifi, still struggle bussin' it! I probably won't be able to respond to comments in the most timely manner because of that, but I really appreciate your support <3
> 
> I hope you're all staying safe and healthy! :))


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please see the end note for content warnings.

Zuko fit the key in the lock and twisted it, checking the handle to make sure that the Jasmine Dragon was securely locked up. He readjusted his backpack on his shoulder and turned to start the the walk home, shoving his hands into his coat pockets for warmth.

Winter was ending quickly, so he had worn one of his lighter coats to work today. He hadn’t accounted for the temperature dip that came with his evening walks home, however, but despite the chill he found himself walking slowly, relishing the brisk breeze and the fading sunlight overhead.

He walked past the smoke shop directly next door to the Jasmine Dragon, glancing inside. There was a sign on the front door reading ‘For Lease,’ and all of the merchandise had been cleared off of the shelves. Zuko couldn’t say he was sorry to see it go. He privately hoped that whatever would replace it would fit his uncle’s vibe a little bit more, considering they shared a wall with the space.

Zuko’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen, and smiled. It was a text from Sokka- _facetime me after u finish ur hw? i didn’t get to see ur face today >:(. _

Zuko typed a one-handed response back- _Clingy._ \- and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He probably should study for his upcoming exam for a few hours tonight, but maybe he could coax Sokka into having a late movie night. Zuko had found himself incredibly distracted from his schoolwork recently, and he couldn’t pretend to be sorry about it. He was still doing fine in his classes. He just spent a little less time sitting at his desk and more time curled up in his very, very attractive boyfriend’s arms. It was a change Zuko found surprisingly easy to make. 

At the thought of his schoolwork, Zuko felt his smile fading. Thinking about his schoolwork meant thinking about the proposition that had been made to him.

Three years without any communication at all, one incredibly awkward Christmas, and now his father came back with _this_. Zuko almost wished he hadn’t rushed his education to graduate early, if only to give himself another year to think through his choices.

Not that Zuko had many choices. Everything he’d ever done had been to redeem himself in the eyes of his father, and hopefully take up a high position in the family company. He wasn’t naive enough to think he’d ever be made CEO, as was tradition for the eldest son- Azula had been the one to impress her skills upon their father, not Zuko. If anyone was going to be passed the family mantle, it would be her. Zuko would be lucky to make it past middle management. 

Zuko tried to imagine what that would be like. He’d be well-paid, certainly. He would see his father and his sister frequently. He would see Iroh less so, because once he was on a higher salary, he would be able to move out of his uncle’s house and into his own apartment.

A chill gust of wind brushed past Zuko, and he hunched his shoulders up on reflex. His phone buzzed again. He pulled it out and glanced at the message from Sokka.

_that doesnt sound like a no ;))_

There was no room for Sokka in this mirage of a future that had been painted for him. His father would be beyond livid if Zuko even alluded to the idea of being in a relationship with a man, but Zuko wasn’t naive enough to think he could hide it from him.

He didn’t _want_ to hide it. Sokka wasn’t something that Zuko wanted to hide. Sokka deserved better than that.

Zuko deserved better than that.

It took him a moment to realize he’d stopped walking completely. He stared down at his phone screen, which shone bright in the dying sunlight. A car drove past him, quick as a flash of lightning.

Zuko deserved better. 

He put his phone away and started walking away, frowning at nothing in particular. Okay- he couldn’t give up his relationship with Sokka, or his friends, or his uncle. He didn’t _want_ to give any of that up. 

But he also couldn’t be a server in his uncle’s tea shop forever. Zuko wanted- he wanted something more than that. Not very different, because he had, surprisingly, come to enjoy the work.

Something more, though. Zuko felt a dull ache in his chest, and took a deep breath to try and soothe it. 

As Zuko walked, he turned his gaze up to the sky, and for the first time in a very long time, he let himself wonder.

X X X X X

Zuko had long since become accustomed to having a few hours to himself in the shop every day to bake, but recently Sokka had developed a new habit of dropping in at some point in the morning with an iced coffee for himself and a chai tea for Zuko. His new appreciation for coffee wasn’t always enough to overcome his tendency to sleep in, however, and sometimes Zuko didn’t hear from him until he received a panicked text early in the afternoon letting him know that Sokka had somehow slept through all seven of his alarms. 

Zuko didn’t mind that much. He always enjoyed Sokka’s company, but it was peaceful to bake by himself sometimes. It gave him time to think.

He’d been doing a lot of that recently. Thinking, and planning, and color-coding several spreadsheets and pages of notes he’d consolidated from all of his classes. At some point over the course of his education Zuko had actually learned quite a bit about business ownership. 

His idea was nowhere near ready for any actual action. It was just a scrap, the barest whisper of a back-up plan that Zuko had never dared to consider, and would probably fall apart under any actual scrutiny. More than once he’d been tempted to delete all of his documents and forget about it entirely.

He didn’t, though. He didn’t dare say any of it out loud, out of fear that it would be immediately shot down, but he didn’t stop thinking about it. 

As Zuko poured custard into the small cups of dough he’d prepared, the kitchen curtain drew back. He looked up as his uncle walked through, today’s newspaper tucked under his arm.

“Good morning, Uncle,” he said, smiling at him.

“Good morning, Zuko. My, the kitchen smells especially delicious today! What are you making?”

“It’s a surprise, actually.”

Iroh’s eyebrows lifted. “Consider me intrigued,” he said. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

“Alright,” Zuko said. He waited until his uncle was safely in the other room before lifting the bowl again and resuming his work. 

The first batch of tarts was ready to come out of the oven a minute later. Zuko put on an oven mitt and pulled them out, replacing them with the fresh tray. He set the warm pan down on the counter and stared at the rows of yellow pastries. 

His backpack lay half-open on the counter. Zuko could see the edges of his black laptop case sticking out of it. He picked it up, pulling out his computer and opening it. He leaned against the counter and watched as the screen flickered back to life. 

The spreadsheet he’d been working on last night stared up at him. He had spent several days working on the math, double checking the budget, writing out all the logistics to ensure that his plan was something more than an idle daydream. 

Somehow, impossibly, he was beginning to realize that this could actually _work_. The numbers were there right in front of him. It would be difficult, and it might fall apart, but Sokka had drilled Zuko relentlessly over the course of his tutoring, and however annoying it had been at the time, it had taught Zuko to trust his own math. 

And his math was telling him that this might not be as crazy as he’d initially thought.

After they’d been cooling a few minutes, Zuko shut his laptop and went to transfer the tarts to a cooling rack. The dough was golden brown and flaky in his fingers, and the custard had a beautiful golden sheen to it. Zuko broke one in half and popped a piece into his mouth, chewing experimentally.

It was good. Really good. Zuko didn’t often give himself the time he probably should be taking to sample his own products, but he’d found himself joining Sokka for the taste tests recently. There was a reason, apparently, that so many customers raved about their pastries. 

When the other tarts had cooked long enough, Zuko took them out of the oven. He went to get a clean plate, carefully arranging some of the cooled ones on it. He picked it up and turned to walk away, then hesitated.

He picked up his laptop, tucking it securely under his arm, and went to approach his uncle’s office.

“Come in,” Iroh called when he knocked. Zuko pushed the door open and stepped inside, shutting it carefully behind him.

Iroh looked up from his newspaper. His round face broke into a wide smile, like he was overjoyed to be receiving a visit from Zuko, and Zuko felt a great rush of fondness for him.

“I do hope you won’t be keeping this secret much longer,” he said, eyeing the plate in Zuko’s hands.

Zuko walked over and offered the pastries to his uncle. “Egg tarts,” he said, enjoying the way Iroh’s face lit with pleasant surprise. “I know they’re your favorite.”

Iroh hummed, reaching out to pluck one up. “You know me well, nephew,” he said. “You spoil this old man!”

Zuko set the plate down on the coffee table where his uncle would be able to reach it. “You deserve it,” he said. He sat down on the sofa, balancing his laptop across his knees.

Iroh’s expression softened. He took a bite of his egg tart, then sighed loudly.

“Wonderful,” he said. “Truly, Zuko, you have a gift.”

Zuko tapped his fingers against the edges of his laptop. “Thank you, Uncle,” he said. He swallowed, trying to temper the nerves he felt coiling in his stomach. He couldn’t back out now. He _wouldn’t_ back out now.

He had to trust that the numbers weren’t lying.

Iroh finished off his first tart in one neat bite, and his expression of obvious delight helped to bolster Zuko’s courage a little bit. As he leaned forward to pick up another tart, Iroh said, “Is there something you wish to discuss, nephew?”

Zuko chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “Actually,” he said. He opened up his laptop. The screen lit up again, and his spreadsheet blinked up at him. “There is something that I’ve been thinking about. It’s not- it’s just an idea, and it probably won’t work, but I wanted to get your opinion on it.”

Iroh lowered his tart. He looked curious now. “What is it, Zuko?”

Zuko took a long, deep breath. He curled his fingers around his laptop, around the precious work he’d completed.

“I have a business proposition for you.”

X X X X X

Zuko stared at the golden dragons coiled tightly against the familiar doors of his childhood home. He wasn’t sure how many minutes had passed since he had gotten there, but the sun was high in the sky behind him, warm on the back of his neck. Zuko reached up to tug on his ponytail, making sure it was carefully smoothed back. 

He reached up to wrap his fingers around the metal knocker. His heart was pounding like a drum in his chest. Still, he felt much less nervous than he had anticipated as he lifted the knocker and let it fall against the wooden door. 

A long minute passed before it was eased open. Jee poked his head out, expression twisting with confusion when he realized who was on the doorstep.

“Sir,” he said, not bothering to hide the surprise in his voice. “Is your father expecting you?”

“No,” Zuko said. He stepped forward to push his way past Jee into the foyer.

The marble floors looked especially cold after the warmth of the day outside. Zuko wondered at how, despite the elegant windows curving around either side of the door, no sunlight managed to creep inside this place. It felt like a mausoleum, dim and still as the dead. 

Jee went to take Zuko’s coat, but Zuko gently shrugged him off. “Thank you, but I don’t plan on staying long. Is my father in his office?”

If Jee had looked surprised before, now he looked downright baffled. “Yes,” he said. “But sir, I must advise-”

“Thank you, Jee,” Zuko said, turning away to climb the stairs.

He trailed his fingers along the cold railing as he walked. He and Azula used to try and slide down it as children. She’d pushed him off that, too. He’d nearly broken his wrist again.

He’d managed it once, though, had slid all the way from the top step to the bottom. He could still remember the rush of air against his face, the swooping feeling in his stomach like he’d been flying. It had been exhilarating, before he'd realized his father had been waiting for him at the bottom. 

Ozai’s office door was opposite from the drawing room, which was closed tight. Zuko walked up to it, raised his hand, and knocked once. 

Several seconds passed before his father’s voice said, “Enter.”

Zuko pushed open the door and stepped inside. He had never been permitted to enter it as a child, but it looked exactly as Zuko had always envisioned it. The floors were dark hardwood, and shelves lined the walls, filled with a collection of books impressive enough to be in a library. Ozai’s heavy wooden desk sat directly opposite the door, and behind him, a fire burned high and bright in the fireplace.

Ozai looked up from the papers he’d been writing on. His long dark hair was down, and shone like an oil spill in the flickering firelight. His features were just as sharp and unforgiving as they were in Zuko’s memories.

Zuko stood there and watched as his father set down his pen with a sharp click. He looked at Zuko, mouth twisted into a small smile.

“Zuko,” he said, like he was relishing every syllable. “What a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you for another week at least.”

Zuko walked forward, approaching his father’s desk. “I came to discuss the offer you made me.”

“Ah,” Ozai said. He leaned back in his chair, appraising Zuko. “I typically require my employees to make appointments with me.”

Zuko kept his expression carefully blank. “I’m not your employee,” he said. “I’m your son.”

Ozai waved a hand at him, dismissive. “One and the same, in this family.” He tilted his head. His eyes looked almost red in the dim lighting. “Are you here to discuss your new duties? I’m certain they’re nothing like what you’ve been doing at Iroh’s silly tea shop.”

Zuko stared at his father. A part of him had been hoping to find at least some shred of decency there, something he’d missed in childhood that could explain how he’d treated Zuko. It had been for his own good, Ozai had always told him. Zuko was the fuck up of the family. He was the one who never listened, who needed lessons beat into him for them to stick. 

Now it felt like he was looking at Ozai, truly looking at him, for the first time. There was no decency here. There never had been. 

“Actually,” Zuko said, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m here to decline your offer.”

A log in the fireplace collapsed, sending up a roar of sparks.

When Ozai spoke, his words were tinged with something sharp and dangerous. “Excuse me?”

“I appreciate your offer to begin work at the company immediately,” Zuko said. “Unfortunately, I must decline the position, now and in the future. I plan on using the degree I earned for my own business ventures.”

“Degree,” Ozai scoffed. “You could have been a Stanford graduate if not for your little _problem_. You have a scrap of paper from the internet. That’s not a degree.”

“It is,” Zuko said. “I worked hard for it. I graduated a year early with top marks.” He met his father’s gaze, refusing to back down from his growing scowl. “And by little problem, I assume you’re alluding to the fact that I’m gay.” 

Ozai brought his hand down on the top of his desk, and Zuko bit down a flinch, gritting his teeth.

“You will not speak that way under my roof.” 

“I’m gay, father,” Zuko said. He would not allow himself to be bullied into backing down. Not anymore. “And I don’t want to work for you. I enjoy working for my uncle, and I will continue to do so for as long as I please. And then I will do something that makes me happy.”

Ozai scoffed. “You’re as soft as your mother was,” he said. “No wonder she left you.”

Zuko curled his fingers into a fist. “My mother is a separate issue,” he said. “Right now we’re discussing how you used violence and fear to make your children obey you.”

Ozai’s dark eyes flashed. “It was for your own good.”

“It was cruel,” Zuko said, raising his voice. “It was cruel, what you did to us, and I’m no longer going to let it control my life. Kicking me out of this house was the only good thing you ever did for me.”

Ozai leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands over one another. Shadows jumped across the sharp planes of his face. He was wearing an expression that Zuko had only seen a handful of times before, an expression that sent cold ice down Zuko’s spine.

“So this is how I am repaid,” he said. “I do all I can to provide for my children, to make them _successful_ , and I wind up with a spoiled brat who can’t look past his own childish sensitivities to see that everything I have done was in an attempt to make you a man worthy of what I have given you.”

“All you have given me is cruelty,” Zuko said. “If that’s all you have to offer, then I don’t want it.” He turned his head away, dismissing him. “We’re done here.”

“Don’t you dare walk out on me, boy.” Ozai was on his feet now, looming across the desk like some terrible shadow. His face was twisting with anger. “You _will_ show me respect.”

“I show respect to those who have earned it.”

Ozai moved so quickly Zuko nearly didn’t process it until he was being shoved backwards. His back hit the wall, and a moment later there were fingers around his throat, curling tight, pressing hard enough to bruise.

“I must admit, I’m impressed that you’ve finally grown a spine, Zuko,” Ozai murmured, so close to Zuko’s ear he could feel his hot breath on his skin. “It’s unfortunate that you haven’t the brains to use it properly.” 

Zuko reached up, scratching at Ozai’s fingers as they tightened. He gasped, trying to draw in air, and realized with a cold jolt that he had never seen his father this angry before- not when Zuko had spoken up in the board meeting and been tossed into a fireplace, not when he’d been thrown out of his home for something he couldn’t even control. 

Zuko dropped his eyes to the floor, looking desperately for a way out of this situation.

Growing up, Ozai had put him in a series of classes to try and find _something_ that Zuko excelled at- music lessons, rowing lessons, fencing. He had taken great delight in watching Zuko fail at each one, in berating him publicly and privately for his uselessness. 

The only lessons Zuko had taken for longer than a few months had been martial arts, before his father had finally pulled him out of it when he saw Zuko wasn’t being knocked around in his lessons like he'd hoped and was actually halfway decent at it. Apparently self-defense wasn’t something he wanted Zuko to have in his skill set. 

Zuko brought his foot up and slammed it into Ozai’s shin, going for shock more than anything else. Ozai gasped, loosening his grip on Zuko’s throat long enough for Zuko to twist away and aim another well-placed kick to the back of Ozai’s knee. Ozai’s leg gave out, bringing him crashing down to the floor. 

“Not so easy now that I can fight back, is it,” Zuko said, his voice hoarse. He backed away towards the door, keeping a wary eye on his father hunched over on the ground.

Ozai lifted his head and glared at Zuko through the curtain of hair that had fallen across his face. He was on his hands and knees, his face twisted into a snarl. Zuko looked at him and couldn't recognize him as his father, as the person who was supposed to care for him more than anything else. He knew now that Ozai didn't have the capacity to care for anything other than himself. 

“I should have let you _burn_ in that fire,” Ozai hissed. 

Zuko’s hand found the doorknob. “Don’t act like you didn’t try your hardest to do just that,” he said. He shoved open the door. “Goodbye, father.”

He turned to walk down the hallway, footsteps echoing on the cold marble. He took the stairs two at a time, aware that if Ozai recovered quickly enough he would try to come after him. Zuko pounded down the steps, used the railing to swing himself around, and then halted abruptly.

Azula was standing in the foyer. Her hair was damp, hanging loose around her shoulders and getting water marks on her t-shirt. Her eyes were wide and startled as she stared at Zuko. Gone was the vitriol that normally laced her expression- now she just looked scared, and incredibly young.

Zuko gripped the railing tightly. “If he ever hurts you,” he said. “You'll always have a place with me.”

Azula opened her mouth, but no words came out. Despite his aching heart, Zuko turned away from her. She had chosen her path, and Zuko had chosen his. He could only hope that one day his sister would find her way back. 

As Zuko walked to the front door, Jee stared at him as if he’d just sprouted another head. Zuko grasped the doorknob and yanked on it.

“Thank you, Jee,” he said, and then walked out without looking back.

Zuko kept up a quick pace down the winding path, down the hill to the street. He turned and walked towards the bus stop. The sun was still bright in the sky overhead. His throat was aching, but Zuko could focus on little else other than the adrenaline coursing through his body and the sudden need to get away from that awful house. 

When he was far enough away to relax a little bit, he pulled out his phone. He scrolled to the contact he was looking for with steady fingers and hit call, raising it to his ear.

“Hi, Sokka,” he said. “Can you meet me somewhere?”

X X X X X

Zuko tried to wait for Sokka to start in on the milkshake, but the other boy had been held up by something, and it just looked too good to leave sitting there. Zuko scooped up a spoonful and shoved it in his mouth, scrolling through his phone to distract himself. Bright music played over the diner’s speaker, some old song with lots of trumpets.

“Uh oh.” Zuko looked up to see Sokka standing over him. He was smiling, but his eyes were on the milkshake in the center of the table. “You know, as good as that shit is, it’s not usually a great omen for me.” 

“I was just craving chocolate,” Zuko reassured him. He gestured at the seat opposite him with his spoon. “C’mon, I can’t eat it alone.”

Sokka sat down, falling back against the red plastic. “Dude, I’m pooped,” he said. He picked up the other spoon the waitress had left and scooped a huge chunk of fudge onto it. “Where the fuck were you? The entire knitting club came by today. I have never been more scared of a group of old ladies with sharp sticks before.”

Zuko smiled. “Sorry,” he said. “Uncle gave me the day off. I had some business to take care of.” 

Sokka raised his eyebrows. He looked at Zuko, and his eyes immediately dropped to Zuko’s neck. “Zuko,” he said, eyes going wide. “What happened?”

Zuko reached up to brush at his throat. The bruising wasn’t bad, but he had checked in the bathroom when he’d gotten here, and there were definitely a few marks. “I’m alright,” he said. “I went to go speak with my father.”

“ _What_?” Sokka was on his feet in an instant, leaning across the table to reach for Zuko’s neck. His fingers were gentle as he brushed against the sore skin. “Did he do this to you?”

“I’m fine, Sokka,” Zuko said, pulling carefully away from Sokka's grip.

Sokka’s face twisted. It was rare for him to actually get angry, but Zuko found himself a little unnerved by the fury on his face. 

“I’m going to kill him,” he said, his voice deceptively calm.

Zuko shook his head. “Sokka-”

“He can’t get away with this shit, Zuko. We should call the cops. Can we call the cops?”

“Sokka,” Zuko said, and despite himself he couldn’t help but smile, pleasantly surprised by Sokka’s protectiveness. “I’m okay, I promise. I think my father is a little worse for the wear than me.”

Sokka’s eyebrows climbed even higher. He dropped back into his seat and stared at Zuko. “Explain.”

Zuko did. 

Sokka didn’t touch the milkshake as Zuko spoke. He kept his eyes fixed on him, gaze very intense, mouth turned down into a small frown. When Zuko got to the physical part of the argument, his eyes flashed.

“We could definitely press charges for that,” he said.

“I don’t want to,” Zuko said. “I spoke my piece, and no matter how angry it made him, he listened to me. He’s never done that before, Sokka. I actually- I actually said the truth to him, for once, and I made him listen to me. And it felt so _good_.” 

Sokka leaned back in his seat and regarded Zuko a moment. “You really showed up to your father’s office unannounced, told him you weren’t going to work for him or take any shit from him ever again, and beat his ass up?”

“That’s one way of putting it, I guess.”

Sokka’s face broke into a broad grin. “Babe,” he said. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any hotter, but you literally never stop surprising me.” 

Zuko flushed. “Shut up.”

Sokka shook his head with a chuckle. “So,” he said, “if you’re not going to work at your dad’s company- what’s the new plan?”

Zuko scratched his fingernail across the surface of the table. “I’m going to keep working at the Jasmine Dragon for now,” he said. “I really like it. Plus, I have great coworkers.” Sokka winked at him, and Zuko rolled his eyes. He hesitated a moment, then said, “And then- I don’t know. I was thinking- what you said, about my baking. I think you might have a point.”

Sokka brightened. “You’re going to make pot brownies?”

“No,” Zuko said, scowling at him. “Quit asking that. I was talking about what you said about making money off of it. I mean- I already have a steady client base, and a brand that I can build off of. I spoke to Uncle about it and he was really enthusiastic about trying to expand the bakery portion of the Jasmine Dragon. I could have a separate business that partners with the shop, or just work under that name but focus on marketing my own products alongside the tea. I just- I don’t know.” He let his gaze wander to the window and the parking lot beyond it, too nervous to look at Sokka’s expression. “Baking makes me happy, I guess, and I don’t have any other plans, so- why not?” He pressed his hand flat against the table. “It’s probably stupid.”

Plastic crinkled as Sokka leaned forward again in his seat. Zuko turned his head to look at him and found his lips immediately covered by Sokka’s. Sokka’s hands came up to cup Zuko’s cheeks, to hold him steady as he kissed him, quickly and urgently. Relief flooded through Zuko, and he smiled against Sokka’s lips, bringing a hand up to curl against the back of Sokka’s neck.

Someone cleared their throat. Zuko and Sokka broke apart and looked up at the waitress, who was standing there with a tray and a very awkward expression.

“Here are your fries,” she said. She dropped the basket on the table and walked quickly away.

Zuko looked at Sokka. Sokka looked back at him. After a moment they started laughing, falling back against their seats. Zuko tipped his head back and beamed up at the ceiling, feeling giddy with sudden joy.

“Fuck, I’m starving,” said Sokka. He reached out to grab a handful of fries, shoving them in his mouth. “I can’t believe you read my mind before I even got here.”

“You’re very predictable,” Zuko said. Sokka kicked his shin lightly under the table, then hooked his foot around Zuko’s ankle and left it there.

“Jerk,” he said without any malice.

Zuko picked up a fry. “So,” he said, looking at it carefully. “You think it could work?”

“Zuko.” Sokka’s voice had never been quite so serious. “I think it’s the best fucking idea I’ve ever heard. It will absolutely work.”

Zuko smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. He took a bite of his fry, savoring the saltiness after the sweet milkshake.

“One favor, though,” Sokka said. “The next time that you go to royally fuck up your asshole of a dad, can you let me know? I understand I’m not allowed to punch him, but I could be, I don’t know, your getaway driver or something.”

“Sure,” Zuko said. “I could always use a cheerleader.”

“I do look great in a mini skirt.” Sokka snagged the milkshake and leaned forward to sip from the straw. Zuko shoved at his foot under the table.

“That’s my straw, asshole.”

“Seriously?” Sokka asked. “I have my tongue down your throat like, twenty-four seven, and _this_ is what you have a problem with?”

“You’re so gross,” Zuko said, pulling a face.

“That’s just a synonym for sexy.”

Zuko laughed and shook his head. He took the milkshake back from Sokka despite his protests, and made a show of wiping off the straw before sipping from it. 

Sokka ordered another milkshake for himself out of spite. They ended up splitting that one, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: abuse, homophobia, physical violence, victim blaming (basically Ozai being the worst in every way) 
> 
> Welcome to Zuko's positive self-growth with a healthy side of introspection *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> Good news! My wifi is back, so we are back to our regularly scheduled programming. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it- it's definitely one of my favorites. In other news, this fic is almost to 30,000 hits, which is- ???!!! I mean, wow? I've seen a lot of people sharing this fic on Tumblr and other platforms and I just want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the support, and for continuing to read and comment and leave kudos. I sincerely appreciate all of you and reading your comments quite literally makes my day, so thank you thank you thank you.
> 
> I'm sending positive vibes to you all- have a good week! :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!! please see the end notes for content warnings, esp. for this chapter.

If someone were to put him on the spot, Sokka didn’t think that he’d be able to name a time that he’d ever been happier. 

Sure, he still worked too many hours at a job he knew he couldn’t stay at forever, and the rent for his tiny apartment was way too high, and he constantly found himself seized with the existential dread of not knowing where the rest of his life was going to be- but he blamed most of that on being in his early twenties, and resolved to focus on more important things.

Like how Zuko was here, in his arms, and he actually seemed relaxed for once. They’d both been given the day off from the shop and were taking advantage of both the free time and Iroh’s empty house to host a movie marathon. Zuko still hadn’t seen most Disney movies- a childhood crime, if you asked Sokka- so they were steadily working their way through Aang’s DVD collection, which Sokka had borrowed without Aang knowing the last time he’d gone over to walk Appa. 

They were on Treasure Planet now, one of Sokka’s favorites. Normally he wasn’t easily distracted away from a movie he liked, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from straying from the screen and back to Zuko every few minutes.

Sokka was lying back against the couch cushions, stretched out lengthwise with his leg hanging over the edge to give Zuko enough space to curl up against him. His head was on Sokka’s chest, one of his arms wrapped loosely around Sokka’s waist. He was a warm weight against Sokka- seriously, the guy was a _furnace_ \- and his eyes were fixed on the movie with a kind of single-minded focus that was thoroughly distracting for Sokka.

Sokka brought his hand up to brush his hand through Zuko’s hair, enjoying the way Zuko’s fingers tightened into the fabric of Sokka’s shirt. He dragged his fingers down, lingering on the nape of his neck, pressing down minutely to check for tension, and then continued onto the slope of Zuko’s shoulder.

Zuko shifted against him, lifting his chin just enough to glance up at Sokka. His gold eyes were half-shut. “You’re being distracting,” he said, the complaint in his voice softened by the small smile growing on his face.

Sokka pressed his thumb against Zuko’s shoulder, rubbing a small circle. “That’s what I’m supposed to do, babe.”

“You were the one who told me I had to watch this whole movie.”

“Because it’s a _classic_ ,” Sokka said. Zuko chuckled, and Sokka smiled, tipping his head back against the cushions and turning back to the screen. 

They managed to make it another five minutes, during which Sokka paid just enough attention to get re-invested in the storyline. He kept one hand moving, bringing it back up to Zuko’s hair, then drawing it down, over the slope of his shoulder and down to his waist. He let it linger there for a few minutes, feeling Zuko’s breath as it rose and fell, relishing in the press of Zuko’s cheek against his chest.

Yeah. Sokka definitely didn’t think he’d ever been this happy.

Eventually, one of Zuko’s hands started wandering, too. He curled his fingers into Sokka’s shirt, rubbing a small circle with his thumb. Sokka kept his eyes fixed on the screen, but found his thoughts jolted away when he felt a brush of warm fingers against his skin.

Zuko had slipped his hand under the hem of Sokka’s shirt. His touch was light at first, as though testing the waters; when Sokka glanced down at him Zuko was already looking up at him, a small frown on his face.

Frowns _definitely_ weren’t allowed. Sokka dragged his hand back up Zuko’s side and shifted, leaning up to press a kiss to the top of Zuko’s head and then laying back down.

Zuko seemed to take the silent consent for what it was. His expression smoothed back out, and his hand flattened, fingers pressing down against Sokka’s bare skin. Sokka looked at the movie flickering on the screen without actually watching it, focusing instead on Zuko’s slow exploration. His fingers were warm as they traced the lines of Sokka’s stomach, gentle as they scraped against his sides. Sokka swallowed when his touch crept higher, fingers brushing against one of Sokka’s nipples. That was the point at which Sokka decided he didn’t really enjoy just being an onlooker.

His fingers found the edge of Zuko’s t-shirt. He slipped his hand underneath and enjoyed the way Zuko shifted beneath him at the first touch. Zuko’s skin was soft and smooth, and Sokka took his time tracing the line of his waist, his hard, flat stomach- when did Zuko even have _time_ to work out enough for that to happen- and then up to press into the center of his chest. Sokka flattened his hand out, leaving his arm curled around Zuko and feeling the quick drumbeat of his heart under Sokka’s fingers. 

Zuko’s hand, which had paused when Sokka started participating, started moving again. He dragged it across Sokka’s chest, falling to his other nipple and stopping there long enough to pinch lightly. Sokka inhaled sharply, feeling warmth blossom in his gut.

“Alright, now you’re being distracting,” he murmured.

Zuko moved. He rolled over enough to lift himself up, twisting to look Sokka in the face. He was grinning, sharp and a little mischievous, and Sokka reminded himself that Zuko had always had a penchant for trouble. 

“That’s what I’m supposed to do,” he said, and then leaned in to kiss Sokka.

Sokka moved his hand so it was pressed against Zuko’s back, running his fingers lightly over the curve of his spine. Zuko’s hand was still under Sokka’s shirt, but Sokka was much more focused on the press of Zuko’s lips against his, on the way his mouth moved under Sokka’s. 

Zuko sat up higher, bringing his legs around to straddle Sokka’s waist and opening him up to an entirely new angle of kissing that Sokka was in full support of. Sokka dropped his hands to grip Zuko’s hips, dragging him closer- it wasn’t close enough, it would never be close enough, but Zuko’s mouth opened a bit wider as he gasped softly, so maybe it was enough for now. 

Zuko ground his hips down, pressing against Sokka, and Sokka groaned as all of the blood in his brain immediately rushed south. Zuko’s head tilted and Sokka felt a brush of teeth against his bottom lip.

Zuko’s fingers were moving under Sokka’s shirt again, across his chest, passing over one nipple and going to squeeze the other, and despite Sokka’s effort to stay still and let Zuko take the lead he couldn’t stop his hips from jerking up. Zuko drew just far enough away from Sokka’s lips to breathe in one shaky breath, then crashed his lips back down against Sokka’s with more force than before.

Sokka gripped Zuko’s hips tighter as they moved against Sokka’s. Sokka had already been getting hard from the moment Zuko’s lips had touched his, but now he could feel the strain against his jeans, and relished in the little friction he got from Zuko’s movements. He brought one hand up to grip Zuko’s ass, trying to drag him closer, and Zuko responded by pinching Sokka’s nipple even tighter and drawing a soft gasp from Sokka’s throat.

All of a sudden Sokka’s brain caught up with the rest of him. He paused, turning his head away to break off the kiss. Zuko went immediately still. He stayed there for a moment, frozen like a statue except for the rise and fall of his chest as he tried to catch his breath. For a moment the room was silent except for the movie playing quietly in the background and their heavy breathing, synchronous in the quiet. 

“Is everything okay?” Zuko asked.

“Yes.” Sokka brought a hand up to cup Zuko’s cheek, and despite the hesitation on Zuko’s face he pressed into Sokka’s touch. Sokka dragged his thumb along the edge of Zuko’s scar, trying to collect his thoughts even as they kept straying back to where Zuko’s hips were pressed in _almost_ the right place. “I don’t- you don’t have to do this, you know?”

Zuko frowned. Sokka’s fingers wandered up to touch the furrow in his brow, wishing he could smooth it out.

“What?”

“Just,” Sokka said, and then paused. He wanted to say this right. “I’m obviously, like, all for it, like, one-hundred percent in on this front, no questions asked. But I meant it when I said we could wait until you’re ready. I don’t want you to feel like I’m- like I’m rushing you, or anything. I won’t be upset if you just want to keep watching the movie.”

He could still remember the fear that had gripped him when Zuko had panicked the last time. Sokka had been upset- not because Zuko had needed to pull away, but because Sokka hadn’t _noticed_ there was an issue until Zuko had literally been hyperventilating on top of him. He didn’t think he would be able to bear making the same mistake twice.

Zuko’s expression softened. He brought one hand up to touch Sokka’s face, to trace the line of his cheekbone, moving down to the curve of his lips.

“Sokka,” he said, “I have never been less interested in watching a movie in my life.”

Sokka dropped his hand to Zuko’s shoulder and squeezed. “Hey,” he said. “Treasure Planet is good.”

Zuko grinned, and Sokka felt something warm bloom in his chest. “You’re a moron.”

“But I’m your moron.”

“Yes,” Zuko agreed. He pressed his hand against Sokka’s jaw and said, “Thank you for checking, Sokka. That means- it _really_ means a lot. I’m okay, though.”

Sokka dragged his hand down Zuko’s arm, feeling the muscles in his biceps. “Are you sure?”

Zuko dipped his head down to press a kiss to Sokka’s cheek. “I’m sure,” he murmured, his breath a whisper against Sokka’s skin.

Sokka swallowed. “Okay,” he said, touching Zuko’s waist once more. “Okay- but if you want to stop at any point, tell me, alright? Seriously. I won’t be upset.”

“Deal.” Zuko’s head dropped lower, lips ghosting along the line of Sokka’s jaw. He tilted his head to press a kiss to Sokka’s neck and Sokka inhaled deeply, fingers curling reflexively into Zuko’s shirt.

“And we need to get off your uncle’s couch,” he said with no small amount of difficulty. “We are not doing this on his tasseled throw pillows.”

Zuko laughed, a small, surprised sound. He sat up and Sokka followed him, leveraging himself off the couch. They lingered long enough for Zuko to grab the remote and pause the movie, and then he grabbed Sokka’s hand, tugging him in the direction of the stairs. Sokka was helpless to do anything except let himself be dragged along, grinning dopily ahead at Zuko as he pulled him up the steps.

Sokka had only been in Zuko’s room a handful of times, because they tended to spend most of their time in the privacy of Sokka’s apartment. Sokka liked it, though; it was small and relentlessly neat, kept so organized that Sokka wondered at how Zuko didn’t complain more about Sokka’s place. There wasn’t a lot of decoration, and the walls were mostly bare, but there were touches of Zuko here and there that made it recognizable- a half-burned cinnamon candle on the desk, a red cardigan draped over the chair, his backpack leaning neatly up against the wall. Sokka spotted the drawing he’d done of Zuko propped up near his laptop, and couldn’t help the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight. 

Sokka looked around the room as Zuko closed the door behind them. “I feel like I’m in high school again,” he said. “All we need is for your uncle to come home and interrupt us and it’ll be full circle.”

“Don’t jinx us,” Zuko warned. He walked over and Sokka smiled at him, bringing his hands up to wind around Zuko’s waist and draw him close.

He was just leaning in to kiss him when his eyes caught on something else on Zuko’s desk. He grinned, feeling suddenly wicked, and pulled away. 

“No way,” he said, walking over to pluck the glasses up. They were thick and black, not unlike the fake ones Katara had worn briefly in her sophomore year to try and look smarter. “Why the hell haven’t I seen _these_ before?”

“They’re for reading.” When Sokka looked over at him, Zuko looked faintly embarrassed.

Sokka walked back over and very carefully slipped the glasses over the bridge of Zuko’s nose. He drew back and looked him over critically, taking in the wide set of his eyes behind the frames and the redness in his cheeks.

“Just what I thought,” Sokka said.

Zuko narrowed his eyes. “What?” 

Sokka wrapped his arms around Zuko’s waist again. “You’re the cutest nerd I’ve ever seen.”

Zuko’s flush deepened. He brought one hand up to shove at Sokka’s shoulder and then left it there, lightly gripping the fabric of his t-shirt. 

“You know what,” he said, “maybe I _do_ want to watch the movie instead.”

Sokka leaned in to kiss him, quickly putting a stop to that line of thought. Both of Zuko’s hands came up to press against Sokka’s shoulder blades, anchoring them both there as Sokka pressed into the kiss. He took a step forward, coaxing Zuko backwards, one step, two, until they reached the bed. Sokka pushed lightly at Zuko’s shoulders and Zuko broke away from the kiss to fall back against the blankets. 

He shifted fully onto the bed and Sokka followed, swinging his leg around to straddle Zuko’s waist. He started to lean back down, but Zuko held up his hand, took his glasses off, and leaned over to set them on the bedside table.

“But babe,” Sokka said, sorry to see them go.

“No,” Zuko said, and reached up to grab the front of Sokka’s shirt and drag him down for a kiss. 

Sokka lost himself in the feeling of Zuko’s lips, of his fingers under Sokka’s shirt, moving across his back. He tilted his head to give himself a better angle to bite lightly at Zuko’s bottom lip, enjoying the gasp it drew out of him.

Zuko’s fingers started tugging at the hem of Sokka’s shirt. It took Sokka a moment to figure out what he wanted, but when he did he sat back and shucked his shirt off enthusiastically, tossing it to the side. Zuko’s eyes immediately dropped to Sokka’s chest, but Sokka was too busy trying to divulge Zuko of his own shirt to care.

When he’d finally managed to get Zuko’s attention long enough to tug his shirt over his head, Sokka pressed a hand to Zuko’s chest and stared at the flat expanse of pale skin. “Fuck, Zuko,” he breathed, dragging his hand down to the line of dark hair on Zuko’s lower stomach. Zuko inhaled sharply and Sokka leaned down to kiss him again.

Sokka’s hand dropped to the zipper of Zuko’s jeans. “Okay?” he murmured against Zuko’s lips, because Zuko _seemed_ very enthusiastic, but Sokka had also thought that the last time.

Zuko nodded so quickly his forehead almost knocked into Sokka’s. “Yes,” he said, his voice a little strained, and Sokka grinned as he very slowly tugged Zuko’s zipper down. 

He slipped his fingers under the band of Zuko’s jeans and pulled. Zuko lifted his hips to help and Sokka very carefully tugged his jeans off, grinning when Zuko got impatient and started trying to kick them off. He turned to drop them off the side of the bed, and then sucked in his breath when he felt a hand pass over his crotch.

“You too,” Zuko said, tugging at one of Sokka’s belt loops. He looked wonderfully undone, spread out against his pillows in nothing but his boxers, face red and eyes fixed hungrily on Sokka’s bare chest.

Sokka had never gotten out of his jeans so quickly in his life.

When he draped himself over Zuko once more, he couldn’t help but moan as they pressed together. It was _much_ better in just boxers, and Sokka took a moment to roll his hips against Zuko’s and relish the way Zuko’s head tipped back, exposing the smooth expanse of his throat.

There were still faint bruises there, yellowing at the edges, five distinct marks. Sokka swallowed a familiar rush of anger and leaned down to press a kiss to Zuko’s neck.

Zuko made a soft sound, something between a sigh and a groan, and rested a hand on Sokka’s hip. Sokka dipped his head lower, pressing his lips against the first of the bruises. He licked it, gentle but sure, and Zuko moaned.

“Sokka,” he said as Sokka dragged his tongue down to the next one, then the next, relishing the taste and feel of Zuko’s skin. He pressed a kiss to the last of the bruises, the one closest to his collarbone, then shifted to the other side of Zuko’s neck. He pressed his lips to the unmarked skin there, kissing for a moment, scraping his teeth just hard enough for Zuko’s breath to stutter, and then started to pull away.

Zuko’s hand came up to grip the back of Sokka’s head. Sokka raised his eyes to see Zuko watching him, his gold eyes wide, his pupils dilated in a way that would have been alarming under any other circumstances. 

“I don’t mind,” he said, his voice hoarse in a way that went straight to Sokka’s groin. “I don’t- I want you to-” 

Sokka smoothed his hand over Zuko’s stomach, and Zuko stopped talking. He leaned back down to kiss Zuko’s neck again, opening his mouth to tease the skin with his teeth before biting down lightly. Zuko sighed underneath him, going loose in Sokka’s hold as Sokka sucked, gentle at first and then harder.

After a minute Sokka eased up, pressing a light kiss to the dark red mark already forming on Zuko’s throat. He lifted his head to look at Zuko, whose eyes were mostly shut. Sokka reached up to touch his chin, gently tipping his head down to look at Sokka.

Sokka stared at him, at the way his hair fell loose to frame his face, at the stretch of his scar and how his eye glinted gold in the center of it, at his lips, red and still a little swollen from Sokka’s attention.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Zuko’s eyes widened a little bit. For a moment he looked like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. 

Then he huffed loudly and sat up, pressing a hand to Sokka’s chest to shove him back. Sokka rolled off of him, confused for a moment before Zuko swung his leg around to straddle Sokka and push him gently back against the pillows.

Zuko leaned in to kiss him, and _oh,_ that was an entirely new angle. Sokka responded enthusiastically, dragging his hands down Zuko’s back, his hips, slipping over the curve of his ass and gripping the thin fabric of his boxers. Zuko’s breath stuttered into Sokka’s mouth, and Sokka grinned for a split second before Zuko ground his hips down hard, and then it was Sokka’s turn to groan, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut tight around the rush of warmth. 

He thought he heard Zuko laugh softly at him, but when Sokka opened his eyes to glare he was immediately distracted by the sigh of Zuko’s head dipping low. He curled his fingers into the blanket underneath him as Zuko’s lips skimmed along Sokka’s throat, across his collarbones, and then down to press against his nipple. Zuko sucked, teeth biting down lightly, and Sokka groaned.

“That feels so good,” he breathed. He’d _certainly_ never had that done to him before, and he didn’t know why, because it felt incredible. He brought a hand up to Zuko’s hair, dragging his shaky fingers through the long strands. “You’re so good, Zuko.”

Zuko’s mouth paused, and then resumed its work with increased vigor. Sokka curled his fingers into Zuko’s hair, gripping a little tighter, and murmured, “Do you like it when I compliment you?”

Zuko hummed, and Sokka felt it go straight to his chest. Zuko lifted his head, tilting it to reach Sokka’s other nipple. His face was red.

“You have a big mouth,” he said, his breath warm on Sokka’s chest.

Sokka brushed Zuko’s hair back out of his face. “You have a very talented mouth.”

Zuko swallowed, his eyes widening a bit more. He leaned down to take Sokka’s other nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth, and Sokka sighed, tipping his head back against the pillow he was lying on.

Zuko’s mouth moved on. He pressed a kiss to the center of Sokka’s chest, down to his stomach, kissed a line across his abdomen. Sokka forced himself to stay still and not jerk up into his touch as Zuko shifted lower, ghosting his lips along the hem of his boxers.

When Sokka felt the first press of Zuko’s mouth against his dick he exhaled loudly, pressing his hips up just a bit. Zuko’s lips were warm even through his boxers, quick in their movements as they kissed down Sokka’s length. Zuko slipped his fingers under his boxer’s hem, teasing it up, then raised his eyes to Sokka.

“Okay?”

“So okay,” Sokka said, captivated by the sight of Zuko looking up at him like that. “Never been more okay in my life, _so_ fucking okay.”

Zuko smiled and eased Sokka’s boxers up, tugging them down. Sokka lifted his legs to give him the space to pull them all the way off. Zuko leaned in to press his mouth against Sokka’s inner thigh, biting down lightly, and Sokka brought a hand up to grip Zuko’s shoulder, needing to _touch._

“Zuko,” he groaned as Zuko shifted to kiss Sokka’s other thigh. His hair was dragging along the tip of Sokka’s cock, a feather-light touch that wasn’t nearly enough. “God, Zuko, you’re so perfect, so perfect for me-”

Zuko tilted his head. He pressed his mouth to the base of Sokka’s dick and Sokka’s mind went momentarily blank as he worked his way up the side, pressing kisses up the length of it. Zuko’s lips wrapped around the tip, tongue coming out to lick experimentally, and Sokka moaned.

“Fuck,” he said as Zuko started moving. He brought his hand up to brush through Zuko’s hair, scraping it back so he could see Zuko’s face. “Fuck, Zuko, yes, that’s- you’re so good, feels so good-”

Zuko sank down lower, drawing another groan from Sokka’s throat. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked, head bobbing up and down, slow and steady at first but gradually picking up in speed. He wrapped one hand around the base of Sokka’s dick, squeezing a circle with his fingers.

“Jesus Christ, Zuko, yes, just like that, you feel so good-” Sokka was babbling now, nonsense compliments, but he couldn’t help himself. It was too much and not enough all at once. Zuko’s mouth was warm and wet, and he was obviously very skilled at this. Sokka was gripping his hair tightly now, pulling at it, and Zuko responded with a moan that Sokka felt _everywhere_.

“Zuko,” he breathed. He could feel familiar warmth coiling tight in his gut. Zuko drew Sokka deep into his throat and swallowed, and Sokka groaned loudly. “Zuko, I- _fuck-_ I’m not going to last long if you- if you keep this up.” 

Zuko pulled his mouth off. He dragged his hand up and down Sokka’s length, head hanging as he took a moment to catch his breath.

Sokka tightened his grip in Zuko’s hair and gently pulled. Zuko followed his hold, raising his head and looking at Sokka with wide eyes as Sokka pulled him up beside him.

“Off,” Sokka said, tugging at Zuko’s boxers. Zuko dutifully wriggled out of them, exposing his erection, painfully hard and flush against his stomach. Sokka swallowed at the sight of it, reaching down to brush his fingers over the tip.

Zuko moaned. He curled an arm around Sokka, fingers digging into his back, and pressed his face into the crook of Sokka’s neck.

“Sokka,” he said. It came out a whine. Sokka brought his hand up to his mouth to lick his palm, then moved it back to Zuko’s dick. He took him in hand, wrapping his fingers around it and starting to move.

Zuko panted against Sokka’s neck. Sokka pressed his face into Zuko’s hair and closed his eyes, focusing on keeping up a steady rhythm as Zuko’s hips jerked forward a little erratically. Sokka dragged his hand up over the tip of Zuko’s dick, all the way down, curled around his testicles and pulled the way Sokka liked it, and Zuko _fell apart_ against Sokka. He breathed a shaky sigh against Sokka’s skin, going loose in his hold.

“Sokka.” 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Sokka whispered, and Zuko’s nails dug almost painfully into Sokka’s back.

When Zuko’s hand found Sokka again, Sokka gasped and tightened his own hold. He shifted so their hands were almost knocking together, both of them picking up the pace. Sokka could feel Zuko trembling and he wrapped his arm around him, pulling him close as he jerked him off, tightening his grip until he felt Zuko tense against him.

“Sokka,” he said, and then he gasped. Sokka continued stroking as Zuko came with a soft cry, and when he felt warmth on his hand it was enough to push him over the edge as well. He tipped his head back and groaned, feeling sticky-sweet pleasure flood through him, squeezing his eyes shut as he rode it out.

When Sokka finally came back to his senses enough to open his eyes, Zuko was curled up tight against his chest. He looked like he could be asleep, but his hand was still pressed tight to Sokka’s back, and he was breathing heavily. 

Sokka smoothed his hair back and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He gently untangled himself, rolling off the bed. He had to take a moment to make sure he could stand, but he eventually managed to make his way over to the desk and grab several tissues from the box left out there. He wiped himself off first, quickly, and then went back over to the bed, where Zuko had rolled onto his back and was watching Sokka through lidded eyes.

Sokka crawled over him and laid back down. He cleaned Zuko off, drawing the tissues across his stomach and thighs, making Zuko’s breath stutter again. When he was done he tossed the tissues onto the bedside table and leaned down to grab the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. He shook it out and drew it over both of them, wrapping it securely around Zuko’s shoulders.

Sokka laid back down. Zuko’s arm immediately wound around Sokka’s waist. Sokka felt warm and sweaty, exhausted, but also like he was glowing faintly as he pressed his mouth into Zuko’s hair and breathed in the scent of his shampoo. 

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Zuko nodded. He pressed his lips to Sokka’s chest and stayed there a moment, just breathing against his skin. Sokka stroked through his fingers through Zuko’s hair, enjoying the feeling of being curled up underneath the blanket, relaxation soaked into every part of his body. 

After a few minutes, when Zuko’s breathing had evened out again, he said, “That was nice.”

Sokka snorted. “That’s all I get?” 

Zuko tilted his head back to grin at Sokka, still faintly flushed from exertion. “I promise I’ll leave you a really good Yelp review,” he said.

Sokka opened his mouth to respond, but paused. He stared down at Zuko, at his smile and his eyes shining bright like melted gold. Their legs were tangled together under the blanket, Zuko’s ankle hooked around his, pulling him close, and _happiness_ wasn’t the only thing Sokka felt in that moment. 

“I love you,” Sokka said.

Zuko’s smile dropped. Sokka swallowed, heart pounding in his chest, and waited. 

Zuko was quiet for what felt like several hours. He had dropped his gaze to stare hard at Sokka’s chin. Finally, he said, “You- what?”

“I love you,” Sokka said. “You don’t- I know it’s a little soon, and you don’t have to say it back or anything. But that’s what I feel. I thought you should know.” 

Zuko’s fingers curled loosely against Sokka’s back. He still wasn’t doing much more than staring at nothing, but he hadn’t pulled away yet, so Sokka figured he couldn’t have fucked it up that much.

“Really?” Zuko asked in a small voice.

Sokka sighed softly and drew Zuko closer to him. Zuko pressed his face into Sokka’s neck, breathing hard all over again. 

Sokka had never truly hated anyone- not even Zuko in high school, or any of his friends, because Sokka thought that hatred was far too heavy an emotion for people he’d only immensely disliked- but the feeling Sokka had now in his gut for Zuko’s father, for whatever guy he’d dated in high school that had fucked him up, was something far past hatred, and he knew it wouldn’t ever go away. He’d never forgive any of them for convincing Zuko so thoroughly that he was unlovable.

The thing that Sokka didn’t like about hatred, though, was that there was nothing to do with that emotion except sit with it. Sokka was a man of action. Instead of focusing on that hatred, he would have to shift his attention into undoing the work they’d spent years and years on. 

“Yes,” Sokka said. “Yes, Zuko, really. I love you.” 

Zuko exhaled shakily. He lifted his head, and when Sokka shifted to peer down at him he saw that his eyes were suspiciously bright.

Zuko opened his mouth, but Sokka interrupted him. “You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready,” he reminded him.

Zuko closed his mouth. He peered up at Sokka, brow furrowed slightly as though searching for something. Whatever it was, he either found it or didn’t, and his expression smoothed back out again.

He leaned up to kiss Sokka, the brush of his lips soft and gentle compared to the last few they’d shared. “Thank you,” he murmured. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Sokka said. 

“I know.”

They stayed like that for awhile, wrapped in a tight embrace, languishing in the afterglow. It was a little warm under the blanket with Zuko pressed against him, but Sokka didn’t mind. He didn’t think he’d mind anything ever again.

Finally, Sokka brushed a hand over Zuko’s back and said, “Hungry?”

Zuko huffed out a laugh. “We had lunch like, an hour and a half ago.”

“I think we worked off all of those calories,” Sokka said. Zuko flicked one of his nipples and he jerked back with a “Hey!” that was more of a whine than a reaction to any real pain. 

“I’ll make you something.” Zuko slipped out from under the blanket, rolling off the bed to get to his feet. Sokka came up on his elbow to watch as Zuko bent over, starting to gather his clothing. 

“I think I’ll just watch the view from here, if you don’t mind,” he said.

Zuko tossed his shirt at him, hitting Sokka square in the face. Sokka huffed and sat up, pushing the blanket off of him and dragging his shirt over his head. “Fine, I’ll help.”

“You do the dishes, remember?” Zuko had gone over to his dresser, and was digging through the bottom one. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and threw it over to Sokka, then pulled out one more for himself. “That’s what we pay you for.”

“Since when do I get paid for cleaning up after you?” 

Zuko stepped into his sweatpants, tugging them up over his hips and knotting it tightly. He walked back over and leaned down to brush his lips against Sokka’s. “We’ll work out a payment plan,” he said. He brushed his fingers against Sokka’s temple and then stood back up. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Sokka grinned as he watched him go. He stood up, stretching his arms high above his head, then picked up the sweatpants he’d been given.

Yeah. This was something way past happiness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: explicit sexual content- this chapter is pure smut tbh, so if that makes you uncomfortable feel free to skip to the very end, which is the only part needed for the plot. 
> 
> This... was not supposed to be an entire chapter. But it was exceedingly fun to write, and I hope all of you who have been patiently waiting for this kinda scene enjoyed it!
> 
> A few updates- this fic will definitely have a few more chapters than I thought- not sure how many yet! We're getting to the end, but I have at least two more + an epilogue planned out and judging from how easily I get distracted from the plot, that could very easily change.
> 
> I've also posted the first few chapters of my newest Zukka fic, [this is me trying](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089129/chapters/63457885), an arranged marriage/moon spirit Sokka au I've been working on for awhile! If you like this fic, go check that one out and let me know what you think. I really appreciate your support :) 
> 
> Finally- I got a red betta fish and named him Zuko and he's now my inspiration in life <3
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and I hope you're having a wonderful day!


End file.
